


Thine Is The Glory

by HandsAcrossTheSea



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, BAMF!Castiel, Blow Jobs, Comeplay, Docking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, Hurt!Sam, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rimming, Sastiel - Freeform, Standing Sex, Switching, Wing Kink, Wingfic, season 6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-20
Updated: 2014-09-25
Packaged: 2018-02-18 03:58:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 37,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2334452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HandsAcrossTheSea/pseuds/HandsAcrossTheSea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel rescues Sam from the clutches of Lucifer but at a great cost to both himself and Sam and in their flight from The Pit land in a small town in Montana, broken physically and mentally.  Together, they have to find out if they can heal. Season 6 AU, established Sastiel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PuppiesRainbowsSadism](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuppiesRainbowsSadism/gifts).



> This fic is a love letter to three different stories - "Holly Jolly" and "Out Where The Shivers Can't Find Me" - two works that have had a profound impact on me as a Sastiel shipper. The other is my benchmark for good Wincest - "Into The World Breathes Life." Although this fic is purely Sastiel, its influence and story bears some similarities to what I've created here. Also, this is for Ander - whose art and writing are an inspiration and is someone whom I'm glad to call a dear friend.

          Castiel remembers many, many things.  Having existed for thousands of millennia, how can he not? 

          However, he doesn’t remember the Cage being so cold that it burns.  Even angels repress memories, he knows.  Castiel’s done quite a lot of it in the last year.

          Mostly due to the aborted Apocalypse and its recurrent effects on those human beings who he’s come to love. 

It’s love that has brought him down here, not revenge.  Revenge is a wasteful emotion, powerful yes, but not one he’s letting fuel him.  Lucifer’s locked up for eternity again – there’s no need to destroy him now and Castiel isn’t going to expend his energy in a fight he knows he’ll lose.  The psychological effects alone are punishment enough for his attempts to wipe out humanity.  Such pride Castiel’s brother has – it was his downfall to begin with.

          Besides, he has Michael here with him, the sibling loved and hated most of all.  Father’s good little soldier, following marching orders to the letter. 

          Castiel hates to think of what they’re going to be doing to each other for the next eternity down here.

          It’s dark here as well, darker than pitch black and the middle of a dead star together and the oily dimness licks and curls against Castiel’s Grace like so many thousands and thousands of legs of insects, hard little pricks as they crawl over him – Castiel gathers his wings around himself and reaches out further. Down here he is in his true form, huge and terrifying and yet nearly powerless against the evil that pours from every square inch of space – this is definitely the Devil’s lair, reeks of his arrogance and hatred and contempt.  There is no way to combat it save for keep going. 

          Castiel of course has no choice but to do exactly that, moving ever closer to the single brightness in this darkest of eternal nights.  The only good, pure thing in this abysmal place.

          The soul and spirit of Sam Winchester, the man who took the fall for all of Humankind without so much as a second thought and the man who Castiel loves more than any one thing in this big, wide universe.  That’s his goal, his one purpose for existing right now – it draws him in like a magnet, all of his heavenly wrath focused on rescue, defend, protect.

          There are no demons here, for even they dare not tread in the lair of Lucifer.  No, this is the place of an angel and Lucifer’s might here, his permeating presence, the _fear_ he exudes keeps them away.  Even Castiel can feel the way his Grace rubs and claws, trying to draw him in.  He resists, instead hearing in the distance Sam’s screams of torment.

          Castiel will not lose his nerve here but it’s still beyond unnerving, to hear Sam – his boy – cry out like that.

          “You should not have come here.”  Lucifer’s voice is booming, louder than the rush of solar winds and flares.

          Castiel manages to sound more defiant than he’s feeling.  “You have no hold over me here, brother.”  Castiel hopes he’s right – such a strange emotion, doubt.  Castiel never used to doubt.

          “Oh but I do.”  Another long, piercing wail from Sam and Cas’s heart starts to ache, moving faster and using the length of Sam’s suffering cry to find him.  Castiel is afraid of what he’s going to find, only the fact that he can still feel Sam’s soul like a distant sun keeping him from giving up hope.  “You fall to temptation so easily Castiel – why not join me?”

          “I don’t make my alliances with those who attempt to destroy what I hold dear.”  Castiel injects venom into his tone, the booming Enochian syllables rolling off his tongue.  Castiel feels comfortable in his mother tongue, knows that Lucifer can understand his intent perfectly clear.

          “And little Sammy Winchester – such a gift Castiel.  I know why you desire him so strongly.”  There’s another painful moan and that’s when Castiel’s baser instincts kick in, smashing through walls and rocks and zeroing in on that sound, his Grace stretching itself to the snapping point and it takes all of his mighty effort to hold himself together, feeling as though his essence is being stripped away but Sam needs him now more than ever.

          Finally there’s light – Lucifer in all of his golden hued, darkness stained glory, his back to Castiel.  Such beautiful wings he has, the most gorgeous to ever exist, deceptively artful – Lucifer know he’s there, as does Michael.  Michael isn’t visible but the blue tinged aura that exists around the edges of this space indicate he’s there – probably not wanting to stand in Lucifer’s way and risk his temper.  That’s something the Bringer of Light has in spades, and Castiel knows it.

          “He’s not yours to have, Lucifer.”  Castiel stands defiant and terrified, so much smaller than the archangel.  Sam isn’t seen but he’s there, Castiel _knows_ it – he can feel the wounded soul, still alive but in such immense pain. 

          “Oh but he is Castiel.  He’s simply more defiant than I suspected.”  Lucifer simply shifts, wings folding and unfolding as though Castiel isn’t there with the fire of Heaven above burning in his eyes.

          “You will not lay another hand on him.  I forbid it.”

          Lucifer laughs and it’s a horrid, ugly sound that rattles Castiel down to the stardust he’s partially made of.  “You forbid it?  Castiel, we both know you’re outmatched here.”  Finally Lucifer turns, the atmosphere turning even colder as he steps towards Castiel, Sam still obscured from view. Castiel straightens, the white-blue light of his being fighting to not be swallowed up by his fallen brother.

          “That is of no concern to me, Lucifer.  I’m here for Sam, not to fight you.”

          Lucifer sneers.  “Are you listening to yourself?  You can’t have him.  You never should have gotten him in the first place.  I love a good sob story, Castiel, and your pathetic affections for my prodigy are simply that – pathetic.”

          “The only reason he said yes to you was to save me and his brother.”  Castiel can feel his energy flagging even harder now, nearly extinguished by the proximity of Lucifer.

          “I also love sacrifice.  So many of this place’s occupants were desperate to improve themselves.  Demons are easy creatures to understand.”  Lucifer looks around with something akin to contempt, as though he’s displeased.  “And Sam here paid the ultimate one.”

          Castiel has one chance at this – Lucifer, powerful he is, is not invincible.  “And he’s served his _you_ long enough.” There’s a flash of energy, a spell cast with a rapid spurt of Enochian – Lucifer screams, more deafening than heaven itself splitting in two and Castiel’s ears hurt, no Grace to spare in order to protect himself, Lucifer’s energy pinned down into his form long enough for Castiel to be released of his unseen bonds to finally catch sight of Sam, nailed to the wall behind Lucifer in a crucifix and there’s no time to inspect his injuries – Castiel simply pulls Sam to him, hears the rush of Michael’s Grace and wings pouring back in behind him and Castiel is running, flying faster and harder with Sam in his arms than he ever has before, following the way back out he came in and burning shut the seals to this awful place behind him, up and up and up.

          There’s a certain satisfaction to be had in slamming shut the gates of the Cage behind him, a rattle of eternal finality rumbling behind him.       

Castiel barely hears it.

There are demons trying to tear at his wings, tear at Sam, anything they can get their wretched claws and fangs in or on, Castiel shielding Sam with himself and tearing ever upwards until they’re free, Hell closed behind them but even then Cas doesn’t stop, refuses to cease until he absolutely know they’re safe.  He simply runs, Sam’s life literally in his hands and he can’t look at him, wants to but he can’t.

Not now.

As soon as he’s broken back through to the night above he keeps soaring, Stull Cemetery below him in a dull patch of brown earth and gray, cracked headstones.  The early November air is cold but not like there, not like the cage – Cas lets it rejuvenate him long enough to fly north. 

Montana’s under them in an instant, leaving Kansas behind and Castiel needs somewhere isolated he makes his way west, towards the border with Oregon and that’s when he sees it, glistening in the moonlight like a snow-stained jewel.  Castiel knows this place – Swan Lake.  He heads towards the eastern shore, nearly deserted at this time of year.  He hadn’t really known where he was going to take Sam when he rescued him (he didn’t dare say if to himself) – just away.  Far away.

He should take him to Dean and Lisa – but that’s too far now and Castiel is about to literally drop from the sky, not daring to call Sam heavy but his strength is leaving his body and _fast._   Swooping downwards he spots a cabin about a hundred yards back from the frozen lakefront, settling them down as gently as he can just inside the front door.

Castiel doesn’t believe in luck per se – he’s an angel, absolutes are harder for him than human beings.  All the same he can’t help but feel that fortune smiles on him, the place mercifully furnished.  It must be a vacation rental, given the unified theme in décor of… woodland.  Castiel fumbles for a light switch, the fixture overhead coming to life and then he’s stumbling towards the back, Sam straining his vessel’s physical strength at this point and he finds it on the second try, big, four poster king sized bed against the far wall and with a sigh of relief he gets Sam there, lays him down and collapses against his chest, taking in a deep breath.

Castiel doesn’t rest for long.  He’s aching to let his eyes slam shut and allow human rest to pull him under but he has to see Sam.  He sits back, turning on the bedside lamp and positioning himself to where he can see Sam better.

Castiel’s heart plummets.

Sam is covered in burns, tiny pricks of Grace that form splotches across his visible skin, the same clothes he had on when he’d jumped in, forehead swollen angry red, nose bleeding (it’s then that Cas notices the red stains permeating the front of his clothes) and his hands – dark red welts where the blood’s been drawn right up under the surface of his palms.  Castiel takes the right and kisses the back of his hand, Sam completely unconscious and it makes a tear run down Cas’s face.

He gets down to Sam’s feet and pulls off his boots, careful as he goes to not injure Sam any more than he already has been, followed by his socks.  The soles of his feet have horrid blisters on them, some of them bleeding and Cas has to fight down a shaky sob, gently running his fingers over Sam’s toes and thankfully finding none of them broken.

Next off are Sam’s pants, caked with sulfur and blood, Cas fighting back the urge to break down before he finishes his inspection – more of those blood bruises, all up and down Sam’s legs, the bottom left leg fractured and Cas can feel the bone sticking up under the skin – Lucifer always did like to cause the most pain without actually killing his victims.  He manages to get Sam’s underwear off, the area around his genitals thankfully untouched and Cas gently lifts Sam’s hips, hands gentle on his bottom as he checks there – there’s another burn right on Sam’s hole and it looks the most recent – that’s what makes Castiel break.

Sam was raped.

Lucifer, the awful, awful creature had used his Grace to force Sam open and… that’s what had been going on Castiel finally got to them.  He can still smell the stench of the archangel’s rotten Grace on Sam’s body, ugly and terrible and nauseatingly sweet.  And Lucifer didn’t even have to touch him to do it, was just going to torture and cause pain  The tears flow freely now and Castiel takes a hold of Sam’s hands and weeps for him, feeling anger and sorrow and helpless that he didn’t get there in time to stop this.  Castiel’s not cried before but this hurts, to feel and see Sam so…

He doesn’t say broken.  Not yet.  Choking back another sob he gets Sam’s shirt off, cutting it open with his angel blade and there’s more of the same, more burns and marks and it’s then that Castiel figures out what Lucifer had been trying to do – he was trying to extricate Sam’s soul.  It’s there, burning at the edge of his subconscious and Cas can feel in his waning Grace the way it burns hotter than the sun, so much power and beauty and Lucifer was trying to take it from him.  Castiel wants to rage and snarl and hit something but he doesn’t, can’t, not when Sam is in dire need of his attention.

Stripping down to his undershirt and boxers, Castiel places a hand on Sam’s leg and pushes the last of his heavenly energy into Sam’s body, repairing the fracture (along with his cracked ribs and Grace burned organs) and clearing away the worst of the injuries to Sam’s skin, feeling his soul settle back into his body so that it’s not at the stage of being ripped from his very being.  Castiel aches for Sam, still alive but only just, having suffered at the hands of the Devil and come out of it alive.

Castiel falls asleep with tears running down his face, pillowed on Sam’s shoulder with the blankets as high up around them as they’ll go, his energy – both human and angelic – expired. 

Castiel desperately hopes that this has all been a nightmare, a trick, and that the sound of Sam’s heart barely beating isn’t a real thing.  That he’s actually well and healthy and not holding on to life by a thread.

Castiel knows he’s lying to himself but he’s simply too exhausted to think any further on it.

Blackness pulls him into its sweet embrace.

___

Sam remembers falling.

Normally falls have an end, a short distance until he reconnects with solid ground or some other tangible object.  They hurt yes but even then they’re finite.

This time he just keeps going.

He’s screaming the whole way down too, fighting against the icy comet that’s trying to rip him from the inside out.  He’d let Lucifer in yes but that had had its purpose, to save Dean, to save Castiel, to save _everyone._   He’s holding him in and then the earth above slams shut like the temple doors at crucifixion and Lucifer’s pouring out of his mouth and nose, Sam feeling it as the so cold they burn claws leave ruin behind them as he’s released – Sam’s will was simply too strong to keep him in.

Finally he lands.

Sam’s entire being feels like it shatters on impact, his very molecules dispersing and then turning to nothingness. 

Lucifer’s still there and so is Michael, torn from the temporary vessel of his half-brother, Adam, and floating with heavenly wrath as he guns for Lucifer, Sam shrieking with divine agony as they blaze overhead, fighting and destroying and beating.  Sam drags himself behind a pillar of rock and ice, eyes and ears covered and even then its fruitless, the sounds of Michael and Lucifer’s Grace splitting the freezing air around him into a million billion scrapes of nails on a chalkboard, flashes of energy released as they beat each other in an angelic fight that’s been brewing for millennia.

How Sam’s still alive he doesn’t know.

Their fight rages and rages, time immaterial down here in this most desolate of places and Sam’s dead, he knows he is – and yet he can still feel pain.  Loss.  Fear.  Sam’s never been more afraid in his life and now there’s going to be an eternity of this, locked down here forever with two archangels that have it out for each other in the most cosmically destructive way.

Sam wants to cry but he can’t draw the breath to do so, just shakes and tries to cover himself.  He’s aware of the fact his hands are covered in blood – his blood, his eardrums shattered and his nostrils dripping red from Lucifer’s exit. 

It hurts on a cellular level.

Lucifer finally acknowledges him after God knows how long, huger than huge and glowing like the sun that Sam will never see again. Sam can’t bear to look at him and yet he stares, mouth agape with the urge to tell him to get away but he’s frozen in place.

“The stories were right, to a point.”  Lucifer’s voice is the most painfully beautiful thing Sam’s ever heard and he can’t help but listen.  “You did say yes to me.  In the end.  No matter how badly you wanted to fight it, you still let me in.”

Sam sneers, or at least he thinks he does. “With the world at stake, did I have a choice?”

“Oh Sam, you didn’t do it for the world.”  Lucifer lifts Sam off the ground, icy tendrils of Grace curling around his body like so many snakes.  “You did it because you’re selfish.  For your brother and that traitorous nuisance.  Such an idealist, Castiel.”  Lucifer draws him in closer and it’s then that he starts to resemble Nick – or his face at least, skin damaged even here, the haggard face contorted into a cruel smile.  “Do they know that, Sam?”

Sam narrows his gaze as he feels his throat start to constrict.  “They’re alive and that’s all that’s important.  Do as you will with me Lucifer but you can’t touch them again.”

Lucifer tsks.  “No, I can’t.  But you’re mine Sam, for eternity.  And that’s a hell of a consolation prize.”  Then Lucifer’s kissing him, Sam feeling the agonizing cold down to his cells as the Devil forces his mouth open, tongue pouring in and Sam wants to bite and kick and scream and fight but he can’t.  Sam’s brain tries to process it but he can’t, every thought shut down and overwhelmed by evil, pure and undiluted.

That’s just the start.

Lucifer loves torture, whether it’s physical or emotional, often both.  His favorite thing is to leave Sam completely clothed and even though he can’t reenter Sam’s body fully  he can still get under his skin and touch him – Sam doesn’t become aroused of his own accord – it’s purely Lucifer taking control of him and he can’t fight it.  Lucifer keeps him responsive but he won’t heal the other wounds, his broken bones from where he fell, the burns on the inside of his body – all of those stay and Sam feels them as sharply and painfully as his forced reaction to Lucifer violating his being.  Lucifer also doesn’t enter in from one point – he gets in where he can, Sam’s mouth held and pried open for his… Sam can’t bring himself to say it but he knows, can feel the cold drip down his chin and out of his bottom when Lucifer finishes with him, only to come back sometimes a moment later and put Sam through it again.

Then there’s the psychological torment – Gabriel has nothing on Lucifer, picturing to Sam those he holds most dear dying in the most terrible of ways – Dean laying in pieces after he’s been run over, Castiel bloody and beaten as his wings are torn apart by a million demons, Bobby suffering in the most graphic and terrible ways from cancer, over and over and over again and Sam wants to cry and force Lucifer to stop but he can’t, not down here where he has no power.  As much as he feels like he could die, he can’t end it himself because Lucifer will keep him alive, bring him back – all for the sake of his own petulance and entertainment. 

It’s beyond sick and Sam’s already broken from it.

Eventually – it has to be two years in, Hell time wise, Lucifer gets bored with his pattern.  Two years and he hasn’t been able to touch Sam’s soul, the one bright, shining thing that Sam has left to himself, still locked tight inside him because no matter what else Lucifer does to him Sam fights with an iron will to keep it.  Lucifer tries though, does his best to extricate it but he can’t break Sam’s hold, no matter how hard he wills it.

“It will be mine, Sam.”

Sam’s laying on the ground, body bound from the neck down by invisible chains.  “No.” 

“I have not truly begun to break you yet.  You think this is as bad as it gets – oh Sammy, so naïve.”  Lucifer stoops, drawing his fingers over Sam’s face and as much as Sam wants to turn away, he can’t.  It makes him feel sick, to be touched like this.

He misses Castiel.

Sam thinks of Castiel when Lucifer’s at his worst, whether it’s fighting with Michael or subjecting him to the most hellish of torments – that’s what keeps him going, some semblance of alive.  Lucifer’s Grace almost sounds like Cas’s, from a distance.  Of course Castiel never has once touched or handled him against his will. 

“He can’t save you, not down here.”  Lucifer knows, of course.  Telepathy and mind reading are two of his favored tricks to make Sam hurt even more – there truly is no privacy, not down here.  “I know that you think of him when I touch you.”  Lucifer puts Sam on his back and hovers over him, tongue licking up the side of Sam’s neck and if Sam could shudder, he would.  “What would that do to him, Sam?  To know that you’re damaged goods and that you’re so fucked up that he’d be repulsed.”  Lucifer opens the bonds, raises Sam up and forces his arms straight out from his sides, his touch everywhere and nowhere as he starts to work his Grace back into Sam’s body, opening him up.  Sam knows this pattern, the way the tips of Grace sink into his skin so that Lucifer can try to draw his soul out as fucks him, feeling it from the neck down, thousands of points of contact that make Sam want to vomit.

“Mine.”  Lucifer says as he turns Sam around, pressed against his back and even with his clothes Sam’s not safe, feeling Lucifer’s presence (he’s not really a physical manifestation, just… energy here) pressing into him and Sam’s as braced as he can be for it, eyes screwed shut because he wants to die and never experience this again and Lucifer’s hand is wrapping around his cock and–

It stops.

Lucifer’s quiet, listening.

Sam’s pressed with his back to the wall and then there’s a cloud obscuring his vision, comprised of sulfur and dirty-yellow Grace that fills Sam’s nostrils, putting him under and for the first time in a decade (or a century or whatever, Sam’s not sure) and then there’s darkness, utter and complete.

Sam welcomes it with open arms.


	2. Chapter 2

**___**

It’s freezing now. 

It was cold before but when Castiel awakes he feels as though the frigid Montana air has come in through the pine walls and tried to put them in its icy embrace.  Of course the cold isn’t Cas’s immediate concern.

That’s Sam.

Cas picks his head up and given that there are no demons – or angels, for that matter – circling around and waiting for them he assumes they’re safe.  It’s still dark but the sunrise is coming in through the windows enough that Cas can see his breath fog.  He puts an ear close to Sam’s mouth and there it is, the barely perceptible puff of oxygen in his lungs.

Cas nearly starts to cry with relief again.

Gently he inspects Sam’s body to see if the Grace has worked through him any more – the burns are still there, all over but they aren’t as red as they were seven hours ago.  Seven hours and Cas doesn’t feel in the least bit rested and that’s when it hits him –

The cold should not affect him and yet he’s freezing. 

Which means something is very, very wrong.

Fighting down the urge to panic and question Cas slips from the bed and looks for his pants, pulling them on and opening the blanket chest at the foot of the bed to make sure there are none left because if he’s cold, Sam’s definitely cold. He’s already got all of them piled on the bed, Sam wrapped up tight as Cas could get him.  Looking around he finds his socks, pulling his trench coat on over the rest as he looks for a heat source.

Of course, to keep in with the rustic feel of the cabin there is no central heating or air, only a fireplace.  Castiel gets the concept behind how to use it but there’s also no firewood.

Castiel is starting to feel just the slightest bit defeated.

With a will he puts his shoes on, tucking Sam in even more and brushing his forehead, murmuring “I’ll be back” against his cheek and he goes outside, angel blade at the ready just in case.  There’s nothing more out here than snow and trees, the wind still.  Cas puts his weapon away, stepping back inside and grabbing the ax hanging next to the fireplace.  He’s got the concept of what he’s supposed to do, yes – but there’s no way he has of being sure what he should cut down. 

If only he could feel his Grace pulsing within him, to keep him warm and provide some clarity but it’s barely even noticeable and he’s so, so cold.

But he has to keep going, for Sam.

Buttoning his coat up as far as it will go he steps back out, noticing how some of the trees nearer the cabin itself are much shorter than those surrounding – that’s where he’ll start.

The fifty feet from the door to the tall timber takes effort, no Grace or wings to push the mid-calf snow out of the way, relying solely on his vessel’s strength and fortitude. There’s ice as well and Castiel wishes for gloves, his skin already starting to redden against the twenty degree weather.  Sucking down a breath of cold air he finishes his short trip, looking at the small pine in front of him.  It’s not a thick tree but it’s still going to take time, especially coated in ice and snow. Hoisting the ax up he swings, allowing himself a small amount of satisfaction at the loud connection of metal to wood, the ice breaking from around the bark.

Drawing back he swings again, this time earning himself wood splitting further and now he knows he can do it, chopping quickly and efficiently – after all, he is a warrior of God. 

Felling a tree can’t be that hard, can it?

___

Sam doesn’t know when his eyes open again.

He also doesn’t know where he is.

It’s bitterly cold and it’s hideously unpleasant, only that he can really only feel it on his face.

Lucifer’s sleeping wrapped around him again, he’s sure of it.  Sam shivers and –

He shivers.

It’s not imagined, he actually shakes and then he’s awake really fast, feeling the press of something holding his limbs down and he’s sitting up, blinking away the haze of sleep –

Sleep?

Lucifer has never once allowed him rest.

It’s at this point Sam’s mind starts thinking that this is a cruel, cruel joke or his mind has finally broken free of his body and moved on to some different plane of existence.

Except there’s no screaming, no sulfur or archangels here, just soft blankets and biting cold.

But it’s not as cold as the Cage.

The next realization that Sam comes to is that he hurts like hell, inside and outside, bone-weary and drained.  Sitting up is agonizing and he falls back to the bed, pulling for breath.

Still, no Lucifer cackling in the recesses of whatever space he’s occupying currently.  Instead there’s snow out the window, sunshine, and the bed he’s lying on feels very, very real, as do the blankets he manages to pull weakly back up to his chin.  Lucifer liked to project into his mind but Sam was never an active participant, not immersed in it fully – some sick game of watching and being rendered helpless as Lucifer allowed some horrid event to play out before his eyes.

“Enough” Sam calls out, with as much energy as he can screw up from his wrecked body.

There is no answer, save for the wind gently rustling outside, along with the somewhat distant, steady, heavy smack of what sounds like wood being chopped.

He truly has gone crazy, he’s sure of it now.

Sitting up again (which makes him groan in pain) he manages to get his legs out from under the blankets and that’s truthfully a shitty idea, the floor underneath his feet like ice but it’s solid, no cold fire raging from beneath the floorboards or spikes trying to pierce his feet.  Hitching the quilt around his shoulders he gets up shakily, watching the world tilt to the left – his left calf is tender, like he hasn’t used it in a long time.  He also feels like he’s standing on needle, the soles of his feet sending acute agony shooting up his legs and he nearly falls back down on the bed. 

Maybe it is another of Lucifer’s jokes.

With a will he shuffles forward, noticing his pants and shoes near the bed, his torn shirt nearby, covered in his blood.  Why he’s nearly naked remains unclear but he honestly can’t bend to gather his discarded clothes up so he continues to hobble, the effort already making his left leg scream at him.  Fighting it down he manages to get to the window on the other side of the bed, breathing heavy by the time he gets to the sill and leans against it.

It was wood he heard being chopped.

And the person doing the chopping is Castiel.

Isn’t Castiel dead?  Blown apart by Lucifer with a snap of his fingers?

Sam yells.

“Castiel!”

There’s a pause in the chopping, Cas dropping the ax and whirling around, looking in the direction of the cabin.

Then Cas is moving towards the direction of his name, running through the snow which any other time would look comical but Sam’s not at the window anymore, moving towards the bedroom door and his lungs are on fire, his body shaking with the effort to keep himself upright but if that’s Cas and not some manifestation of Lucifer’s he’s going to find out.

Sam makes it to the living room, having to stop and clutch the doorframe and Cas is bursting through the front door, covered in snow and ice, nearly tripping over himself –

Only to meet Sam’s fist.

“Sam?”  Castiel rubs his jaw and Sam’s standing there clutching his fingers, looking at Castiel with hope and fear and God he’s sorry he did that.

“This isn’t a trick, is it?”  Sam’s hoarse and scared and Castiel can’t blame him for taking that swing in the least.

“What?  Sam no, it’s not.  I swear to you, it’s not.”  Castiel chances a step forward, Sam leaning hard against the doorjamb.  He looks terrible and all Cas wants to do is wrap him up in his arms.

“Then tell me something only you and I would know.”

“Our first kiss was on the back porch of Bobby Singer’s house, right after you had come out of detoxing from the demon blood.  I started to tell you I loved you and you finished for me.”  Cas moves a little bit closer, Sam starting to let his defenses down, the belief seeping into his eyes.  “You told me I needed to work on my flirting skills.”  Cas is as close he dares get, waiting for Sam’s response.

Lucifer never knew that.  He knew many things about Sam and his relationship with Castiel, but Sam never let him in that far.

This is real.

He’s out of the Cage.

“God, _Cas._ ”  Sam falls into Cas’s arms and Cas nearly bends double with the weight of Sam colliding into him but he doesn’t stumble, puts his arms around Sam, Sam ignoring the fact that Cas’s hands are blistered and cold and the sleeves of his coat are covered in melted snow.  No, Cas clings as tight as he dares buries his face in Sam’s neck, the skin under his nose smelling vaguely of sulfur and pine from the bed.

“Sam.”  Cas kisses the skin under his lips, a ghost of contact and Sam’s so, so cold, shivering hard and Cas pulls the blanket back around him, leaning away to close the gap at the front around Sam’s stomach and taking a moment to look at Sam, seeing the tears that fall freely from his eyes, Cas’s own vision blurry and he wipes them away, both his and Sam’s, reaching up to touch Sam’s hair and stroke it back behind his ear.

Sam tightens his arms around Cas at the gesture, part of his brain still screaming at him to back away, that this may still not be real but a bigger part says no, that this is fine and this is his Castiel and not some mind game.  Sam looks, hard, into Cas’s eyes and that’s how he really knows – Lucifer never got their color right, that deep, dark blue that carries so much fire and conviction inside its mesmerizing calm.

“You’re freezing.”  Cas’s words are gentle, saying them as he rubs over the burn marks on Sam’s chest.

“Cold.”  And yet Castiel isn’t radiating heat, not like he normally does.  “Cas you’re…” 

Sam backs away then because he remembers Castiel’s skin and touch as being like fire, not chilly and so… human.

Then he notices the blisters on Cas’s hands.

Cas’s hope flags as Sam tries to pull away from him, the disbelief returning to his features.  “Sam, it’s me, I swear it to you.  But something’s happened to my Grace.  I can’t feel it.”  Cas shrugs off his jacket, makes like he’s going to fold out his wings and the gesture is there, Sam watching and waiting but there is no manifestation of midnight black feathers to either side.

“What happened?”

Cas shrugs, pulling his jacket the rest of the way off and then moving towards Sam, putting it around his shoulders. “I don’t know.  I think it may be because of the Cage.  The way Lucifer’s presence causes ruin and decay.  My Grace may have suffered when I came to get you.”  Castiel won’t say that’s what happened because he knows Sam will blame himself for it and that’s the absolute last thing that Castiel wants for Sam to do.

Sam looks sorry anyway, his gaze shifting to the floorboards and his entire torso sags in defeat.  “You didn’t have to.”

“Sam it was my choice.”  Castiel puts his fingers gently under Sam’s chin and tilts his face back up. “My choice to come and save you.  This is not your fault, and I mean that.”

Sam wants to believe him, badly.  After all, he’s the one that jumped into the pit with the Devil and his brother.

“Does Dean know?”

Castiel shakes his head.  “I have no way of contacting him.  My phone is gone and so is yours.”

So Sam truly has nothing to his name save for torn clothes and this place – which he doesn’t even recognize.  “Is he alive?”

“Yes.  He’s living with his friend, Lisa.  I would take you to see him but Sam, I can’t fly, as much as I want to show you.”

“I believe you.”  The words are a bare whisper from Sam’s lips, only halfway audible even to Cas’s still somewhat intact angelic auditory capabilities.

  Cas moves his hand up to brush Sam’s cheek with his thumb, sorrow for Sam flooding him.  “What can I do for you now? I’m not capable of much but Sam, just tell me and I’ll try.”

Sam shivers again, hard this time.  “I’m so fucking cold.”  He hopes it doesn’t sound too whiny.

“I can try to fix that – hold on.”  Castiel takes Sam by the waist, arm around him and he pulls Sam in as close as he can.

While he was outside Castiel had bothered to see if there was plumbing to the house so that means running water.  He eases Sam into the bathroom and leaves him standing near the sink, starting to fill the rather large bathtub with hot water.

That’s when Sam gets a better look at himself.

“Lucifer” is all Cas says, noticing how Sam’s tracing the marks on his chest with his fingers.

“Yeah.”  Sam remembers what he was trying to do, all too well.

Castiel’s pity grows even larger.

“Sam if you don’t want me to see you naked, I understand.  I know what he did to you.”  Cas need not elaborate any further.

Sam shakes his head, dropping the quilt to the floor.  “You’re not Lucifer, Cas.  I never…”

“It’s okay.”

It really isn’t but Sam understands the difference between Cas’s burning and pure love for him and Lucifer’s cold possessiveness.

“Yeah” is all Sam says as he manages to get off his underwear and step forward, Cas’s hands slightly warmer on his skin as he helps Sam into the tub, concern written all over his face.  Sam’s body aches and aches and aches but it’s nothing compared to Hell.

Ache he can deal with.

That and the fact that no one’s causing more of it.

Once he’s settled Castiel leans down and brushes his cheek again, wanting to get in with him and let the world slip by in Sam’s embrace but his work isn’t done yet.  “I need to finish chopping wood Sam. I believe we’ll be here a while.”

Sam nods.

“If you need anything Sam just say so.  I can still hear you.”  Cas wants to kiss him so, so badly but he doesn’t know if Sam’s mind can handle it.

“I’ll be okay Cas, I promise.”  Sam reaches up and grabs Cas’s hand, twining their fingers together and he’s still gorgeous, Grace or not.

There’s a moment of looking deeply at each other and then Cas is rising, turning back through the door.

Sam feels lonely again when he hears the front door open and then shut, on top of the fact that maybe he is unclean now because he saw the apprehension in Cas’s eyes, that decision whether or not he should touch Sam’s mouth to his or not.

Sam honestly can’t blame him for not wanting to, given what was there last.

Sam soaks until the water gets cold and then he lets it drain as it fills back up, trying to stave off the chill that threatens to encroach upon him, listening to the swing of Castiel’s ax outside, no other sound to mask it and it’s comforting, Sam’s exhaustion pulling him back into unconsciousness.

“You thought it was real, didn’t you?”

Sam’s awake in an instant, gasping for air and he’s trapped under a layer of ice, deep, dark water at his back, Lucifer there above the surface, smiling down at him and taunting him.

“You thought you had escaped me.  I told you you were mine, Sammy.  For one of so much faith you do love to doubt me.”

Sam screams but nothing comes out save for silence as he feels his lungs fill with water, dragging him down, down, down.

“Sam!”

Sam’s being pulled up, water sloshing over his body and Castiel, looking beyond frightened and clutching desperately at Sam’s shoulders, shaking him gently and Sam stops struggling once he sees Cas, clutching at his face, fingers pressing hard into his cheekbones, tugging at the skin and Cas doesn’t push him away, lets him cling and hold on in spite of the fact that he’s now wet.

Castiel pulls Sam up out of the water, getting a towel as soon as Sam’s standing on the bathmat and putting it around his body, using another to dry him off, gentle as he goes so as to not make Sam’s burns hurt any more than they do.  He gets his legs done before Sam reaches out and stills him with a hand on his shoulder.

“’M okay.  I… I can do it.”  Cas cedes the towel, Sam taking it from him and he know he has nothing to be afraid of from Cas but he tries to hide himself all the same and Cas looks away.

“I found something.”  Castiel steps out from the bathroom and comes back a moment later with a bathrobe, long enough that it goes all the way down to mid-calf on Sam, Sam wrapping it around himself and tying the belt gratefully.  “It was in the closet and since there wasn’t anything else…”

“It’s fine, Cas.”  It is warm though and smells faintly of smoke.

Smoke?

“There’s something else.”  Cas lets Sam attempt to walk by himself, reaching out for Cas’s shoulder as he passes by and he clings all the way to the living room where Castiel has a roaring fire going, along with the blankets from the bed arranged on the couch.  “I warmed your robe in front of the fire so that when you got out it would be – “ Cas’s words are cut off as Sam pulls him in and kisses him, pouring thanks and warmth and the question of do you still want to kiss me, yes Sam I do as Cas kisses him back, kisses the damp warmth from Sam’s bath right off of his lips.

Sam’s the one to pull back, closing his eyes and touching his forehead to Castiel’s.

“We need to talk.”

Castiel simply nods, pulling Sam to the couch and sitting so that he can face Sam and wrap him in blankets at the same time.  Sam looks beautiful in the firelight, the late afternoon sky already turning dark outside.

“Start from when I jumped.”

Castiel takes Sam’s hands and rubs his fingers as he begins to speak, massaging warmth and circulation back into his joints.  “I was brought back to life.  I don’t know how, but I was.  I’ve tried to find an answer but I have none for it at this moment.”  Castiel shifts closer, drawn to Sam like a moon orbiting its star.

“I thought that you were gone, forever.  We all did.  I spent a great deal of time with Bobby, combing his library, anything I could get my hands on, even summoning demons, looking for a way to get you out.  I found a spell, an ancient, powerful ritual so old that even I had trouble making sense of it.  Enochian existed before I was ever made, Sam.  I just speak the most current version.” 

Sam nods, studying Cas’s face and bringing a hand up to run his fingers through Cas’s snow-damp hair.  “Keep going.”

“It was a spell to disable Lucifer, should any being need to descend into the Cage ever again.  I used it to come and get you.”  Castiel kisses Sam’s palm as his fingers brush over his lips.

“How long was I down there?”

“Sixty years, Sam.  I’m sorry I couldn’t get you out sooner but I had to make sure the spell was correct or I wouldn’t have gotten another chance.”

Sam nods, looking down at the blanket enveloping him and pretending to trace over the pattern with his eyes.  “Six months.”

“Yes.” Cas holds onto Sam’s hand that much harder.

“And what about you?  Your Grace?”  Sam had noticed something wrong, something missing from Castiel’s… being.

“The influence of Lucifer.  His presence there is so strong and overwhelming that it drains strength from any being lesser than an archangel – that’s why not even hellspawn dare approach him.  Why my Grace has dwindled so and you’re…”

“Weak.”

“Not weak.  You resisted him for so long, Sam.  You survived.”

“At what cost, Cas?  I can barely walk and it feels like I’ve been torched from the inside out!  I should be dead and you know it.”  Sam tries to inject venom into his words but he simply doesn’t have the energy and already he’s so fucking done with feeling tired and helpless.

“Don’t say that.”  Cas leans in and braces Sam’s face with his hands.  “That’s not like you.  You fully deserved to be taken from the clutches of Lucifer!  Sam, you have sacrificed so much to wish an end for yourself – would you rather be dead and gone? To never see your family again?” 

Sam shakes his way out of Cas’s hold and gets up, wobbling on sore feet.  “At least I wouldn’t be a burden anymore.  Dean hates me anyway and Bobby…” His voice trails off, leaving the words hanging but Cas catches the meaning of the dead silence clearly.

“I was supposed to be dead a long time ago anyway.  Boy with the demon blood and all that.”  Sam turns back to Castiel.  “What you said to me, those were your words.”

Cas gets up and stands toe to toe with Sam.  “And you know that I believe otherwise now.  Don’t you dare discount that truth, Sam.”  Castiel wants to shove that fact into him but he can’t, knowing it would just do more damage.

“What, and you want Lucifer’s sloppy seconds anyway?  You know what he did to me.”  Sam’s voice cracks as the memories flash across his brain like lightning on a dark afternoon.

He feels sick again.

“Sam you will never be that to me.  Not when I was there first.”  Castiel takes Sam’s hands again, Sam only thinking about pulling away.  “You were too pure and good for him to ruin.”

Sam’s body contracts inward, his hands leaving Cas’s and clutching at his stomach.  “God, I feel like shit.”

“You suffered internal injuries when Lucifer left your body.”  Cas rubs Sam’s stomach and chest where he doesn’t have his fingers splayed.  “And I’ll keep healing you when I can, Sam.”

A moment later Sam drops his hands to his sides and lets Cas keep touching him, soothing his pain as best he can.  “So I was worse when you dragged me back up here?”

“You were nearly dead before I managed to repair the worst of your injuries – in fact, it’s still inside you, what little bit I could spare to keep working and healing.  I’m honestly surprised I was able to do as much as I could and until my Grace rebuilds…” 

If it does at all.

“It will, Cas.  It always does.”  Sam leans his head against Cas’s and puts his arms around him.  “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.”  Cas leans his head up and this time the kiss is soft and warm, Cas letting Sam guide it, take control, demand only as much as he wants.

A moment later Sam pulls away slowly.  “I’m tired.”

“Then we’ll rest.  Together.”

And they do.

___

The next time Sam awakes there’s no memory of hell this time, his brain too tired to do anything else but let him rest and this time he feels slightly better – not at all fully functional again but it doesn’t hurt to breath now and his limbs don’t feel as dead.

He’s also for the first time in over a century very, very hungry.

Castiel is resting on his chest, draped over him like a blanket and it’s going to take time to get used to Castiel sleeping, actual full, human, rest – they’ve shared a bed before but Cas just goes into this sort of meditative state, aware but not aware as Sam sleeps on or next to him.

He looks peaceful, fingers of his left hand curled behind Sam’s neck and his other hand under the pillow, like he’s shielding Sam.  Sam has a hand resting against Cas’s hip and he uses that to gently wake Cas, using his thumb to rub small circles into his skin.

Cas wakes after but a moment, looking up quickly like something’s wrong.

But there’s just Sam.

“Easy, Cas.  It’s just me.” Sam gives him a small smile, the first one Cas has seen since they got here.

Cas kisses that little sign of alright like it’s the most precious expression ever made.

“I thought something might be wrong.”

“Not really.  Just… I’m hungry.  Lucifer wasn’t big on the whole nourishment thing.”  Sam tries to make it sound like a joke but his quiet tone gives him away.

Cas brushes Sam’s sleep mussed hair back from his face.  “It didn’t occur to me that you would need food, I apologize.”

Sam shrugs and hugs Cas closer.  “It’s alright.  Haven’t exactly been dwelling on it myself much until now.”

“I can go and get food, anything you want Sam. Bobby provided me with funds.”

“And you’re gonna go out on foot, just like that?”

“Yes.”

“Cas it’s freezing outside.”  Sam sits up and winces only a little, looking out the window.  “By the way, where are we?”

“Swan Lake, Montana.  It seemed appropriate enough a place to go to rest.” Cas sits up with him, carding his fingers through the back of Sam’s hair in a gentle he way he knows that Sam finds to be immensely soothing.

“I think Bobby has a friend here in town, if he’s not dead.  Owns a general store.”  Sam leans back into Cas’s touch, closing his eyes and maybe if there’s a steady supply of this he’ll feel better in no time.

“Does that feel good?”  Cas knows it does but he has to ask anyway.

“Very.”  It’s quietly intimate, still cold yes but the blankets keep them from completely freezing, the heat from the fire having seeped from the living room through to the bedroom. Risky leaving it going all night yes but it had been that or wake up trying to fight back shivers again,

The image of Castiel with chattering teeth though, trying to talk – it makes Sam chuckle and kiss Cas’s forehead.

“You’re adorable.”

“May I ask what prompted this?”

“I thought about you with chattering teeth and trying to tell me about how you’d manage to cobble together some sort of central heating system for our little hideway.”

“My teeth do not chatter.”  Castiel tries to appear indignant but is just comes off as a very cute pout.

“If you go outside with just your clothes then they will be.  Besides we have to be a mile at least from town.”

“And it’s not as though you have clothes to come out with me Sam.”

He does have a point there.

“I have a coat and pants.”

“But nothing that will equip you to walk a mile in snow and ice, Sam.  I don’t want to leave you alone either.”

“I think I’ll be okay for now.”  Sam mostly feels just weary now and alright, a hike through the snow doesn’t sound like a good idea.

“How did you lose your phone anyway?”

“Demons.  We ran into some as we made the trip back up and they destroyed it in the process.” 

Sam did see a tear in the pocket, now that the thinks about it.

“And yet you managed to save the credit cards Bobby scrounged up for you?”

Castiel returns Sam’s shrug.  “I have no explanation for that.”

“We’ll get in touch with him soon enough.”

Sam leans in and kisses Castiel to warm himself that much more.

___

Castiel takes a shower (even though there’s no soap) and gives Sam another kiss before he steps out, intent on returning with essentials and possibly more – both of them need clothes, seeing as how Castiel can’t use his Grace to upkeep his personal appearance and Sam’s are ruined, food for Sam as Castiel feels no need to eat, not yet anyway and food – Jerry Macklin’s credit card has a fifteen hundred dollar limit on it, courtesy of some very careful scamming by one Robert Singer with the blessing of “you’re going to need it at some point.” 

Now is definitely that point.

Castiel makes it out to be a mile and a half to town from their cabin and if he could fly he’d be there in a millisecond – but he can’t.  He’s tried at several points over the last two days to get his wings to work but they simply won’t manifest, not even the pull of Grace through his being to let him know if they’re still even there.

Castiel may have to come to terms with the fact that his journey into Hell may have cost him his angelhood.  What’s worse is that he can’t protect Sam, can’t give him what he needs now and that’s healing and mercy and every other thing associated with the status of an angel of the Lord.

It’s crushing, if Castiel is being frank with himself. 

The worst part is he simply can’t move quick enough anymore, can’t move to get Sam what he needs in a timely fashion and Sam’s hurting in a bad way, even if he is slightly better now – it doesn’t mean much because Castiel knows what kind of shape Sam’s in, the Grace he left inside him barely keeping his organs from starting to fail.

Cas needs a miracle right now.  A big one.

Resolving to not let himself fall to personal demons he presses onward, a light snow starting to fall over the landscape and admittedly it is very beautiful – there’s a comforting feeling in knowing it’s simply crystallized water and not ash from the apocalyptic surges that would have occurred had it not been for Sam.

Castiel wipes away a tear because his boy truly did save all of them.

He reaches town an hour later, two streets side by side with exactly that many stoplights – everything is open in spite of the fact it’s the off season, Swan Lake a resort town with just a few thousand year round residents. Milton’s Provisions is where he’s going first, armed with the name of the Bobby’s friend, Sam having told him that Milton “knows the business.”

Castiel just hopes that the man is still in it and won’t ask too many questions.

The building is done in white clapboard, two stories tall with a great big porch and wagon wheels as décor, keeping in with the Old West theme the store was clearly constructed in.  However there’s nothing old country about the blast of heat as he walks in the front door, blowing on his hands to warm them, the ventilation humming overhead as he looks around. 

The space in front of him has literally everything he could possibly need – clothes across the floor on racks as far as he can see, foodstuffs along one wall, a staircase that indicates even more on the upper level – this is definitely part of that miracle Cas needs right now.  He brushes the snow off a little more and heads into the store, intent on getting back to Sam as soon as possible.

Milton Browning is a large man in his early 60s, windburned face tanned and leathery, body bulky but still strong and sporting the most glorious silver mustache Castiel has ever seen – he comes out from behind the counter with the till on it and approaches his latest patron.  He approaches Castiel with a smile, sticking his hand out friendly as you please and pumping Cas’s arm.

“You’re not a local, son – what brings you into my shop?” Milton lets go of Cas’s hand and steps back, resting his thumbs in the straps of his suspenders and studying Cas with scrutiny.

Not letting the man intimidate him Cas clears his throat and starts to speak.  “I’m a friend of Bobby Singer’s.  You can help me.”

Milton whistles, long and low, then smiles again.  “Bobby Singer, huh?  He still chasing ghosts and ghouls?”

“Yes.”

Milton shakes his head pulls out a snuffbox.  “Ain’t he too old to hunt?  Don’t matter, he’s a tough old bastard. But if you’re here mentioning his name you had better come with me to the back.”  Castiel follows Milton to where he first emerged, a trying to read him for any signs of hostility, thumbing his angel blade within its sheath up the inside of his right coat arm.

If there’s warding here Castiel can’t feel it and that can’t be a good sign – but the stacks and stacks of old tomes and texts that line the walls of the room tell Castiel that the man is indeed legitimate.  There’s also a picture of Bobby and Sam and Dean sitting on the desk, the photo at least twenty years old but Castiel recognizes Sam all the same, missing teeth in his smile and proudly brandishing a trout, no doubt caught in a lake.

Milton leans against the edge of his desk and pats the worn leather seated chair, inviting Castiel to sit. “Take a load off and tell me what business that old rascal’s got you here on.”

Still weary but not feeling threatened, Castiel accepts the invitation and seats himself, sitting up straight as he gives Milton a summary of what happened, starting with Dean’s deal and subsequent resurrection, all the way up to his drip into pandemonium and the subsequent rescue of Sam.

He leaves out the demon blood and its effects on Sam, sparing Milton the image but also himself the recounting of painful memories.

Milton listens with intent, gaze somewhere along the wall behind Castiel as he absorbs the words, staying silent even after Castiel has finished recounting his tale.  He gets up and goes over to a bookshelf in the wall and pours himself a measure of whiskey, offering Castiel a finger or two which Castiel declines.

“I knew that boy would make a hero one day.”  Milton picks the picture up off the desk as he drains his glass.  “Knew it even when he was seven years old.”  Milton shows Castiel the picture, allowing him to study it for himself.  Castiel’s thumb rests near Sam’s smiling face, his heart leaping in his throat, the dimples just as big and happy then as they are now, feeling his eyes water because absolutely Sam’s a hero, strong and kind and wonderful and suddenly Castiel misses Sam very much.

“He is.”  Cas hands the picture back and clears his throat.  “But I need some things and you’re able to help me.”

Milton extends an arm in the direction of the store.  “You take what you need – I owe Bobby a favor anyway and I’d say this counts.  Me and him go way back and it gives me an excuse to talk to him.”  Milton ushers Castiel out of the study/office and flips the “open” sign to “closed.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

Castiel nods.  “I need clothes, food, and medicine.  Sam’s injuries need medical attention that I myself cannot provide.”

Milton gives him a wink.  “I can help with that but it’s gonna take me a minute to get what you need.  While you wait why don’t you just gather up what you need, alright?”  Mitlon bustles off to the back, leaving Castiel alone.

Before long Castiel has worked through the racks and shelves of clothing, scooping up jeans and shirts in Sam’s size, thankful for the large selection (there are no big chain stores in Swan Lake so Milton is the only one to satisfy the demand) and Sam soon has a week and half’s worth of clothing, Cas arranging it all neatly along the counter, throwing in underwear (boxer briefs because those are what Sam likes best) and socks, having committed Sam’s sizes to memory long ago.  Next is a pair of boots, followed by a long coat that he knows will keep Sam more than warm, capped off with a scarf and gloves.

Milton comes back out right as Castiel finishes stacking the clothes.  “I have Vicodin, cough medicine, a bunch of less strong painkillers and some stuff that should help with any supernatural elements – I’ve been in the business long enough to know and something tells me playing host to the devil ain’t easy on a boy.”

Castiel gives a wan smile at Milton’s kindness.  “It isn’t.”

“Well it’s the least I can do for him, and you.  You’re a brave man Castiel, going down into the pit and getting him like that.”

Because I love him with all my being, Castiel thinks.  “I’m hardly half the person Sam is.”

Milton squeezes Cas’s shoulder for a moment before he lets go and comes back around to the other side of the counter. “C’mon – let’s finish outfitting you two and then we’ll see if we can’t get in touch with Bobby.”


	3. Chapter 3

Fire or not, Sam’s still cold.

Very, very cold.

He’s sitting with every blanket off of the bed wrapped around him, shivering three feet away from the fireplace, eyes shut against the sensations wracking his body.

Lucifer’s on the couch behind him, making Sam feel even closer to turning to ice.  He hasn’t really left, just fades back into Sam’s subconscious when he’s around Cas, like he’s building up Sam’s hope only to snatch it away again.

“You know Sammy – Cas isn’t so very tough now anymore, is he.”

Sam knows he’s just letting his worries get the better of him – Lucifer isn’t here with him and Cas is fine, just it’s started to snow pretty heavily and there’s hardly any firewood left. 

It still doesn’t stop Lucifer’s mouth from running, however.

“Probably face down in the snow, collapsed because he’s weak.  Inept.  So not like my little brother, oh no.  But you did it to him.  Made him come get you and broke him in the process.”  Lucifer sits up, Sam hearing him shift and then get down on the floor behind him.

“And now all you have is me, Sam.  The only angel who’s ever wanted you in the first place.”  Lucifer’s icy fingers slide under the blanket, scratch down Sam’s sides and Sam tries to move away, only to get tangled in the blankets and end up half a foot from where he was before, Lucifer still there.

“Is that not true though?”  Sam shudders even harder as Lucifer’s lips ghost over his neck.  “Does Castiel truly desire to be with you?  The one who I have made my conquest so many times over?”

“Shut up!”  Sam tries to shout it, only for it to come out a hoarse stammer and it’s the first time he’s actually spoken to his hallucination.

“Oh Sammy, why don’t I do that?”  Lucifer comes around to his front, eyes nearly black as he peels the blankets back, opening Sam’s robe and stroking at the outline of Sam’s cock.  “Want to shut me up with this?  Watch your come run past my lips?”

Sam feels physically ill, fighting the urge to vomit as he shoves away and stands weakly, his hunger making him dizzy at the effort to get away, Lucifer following him back into the bedroom.

“Cas is dead.  He’s dead and gone and you want so badly to touch and hold him but you can’t anymore and it’s all your fault.”  Lucifer puts his hands on Sam’s hips and tries to nuzzle his neck.  “Let me have you Sam, and you’ll forget all about him.  Wouldn’t that be nice?  To just forget Sam?  The things you’ve done and the people you’ve hurt?”

“You. Are. Not. Real.”  Sam grits his teeth and spins around, swinging at empty air, Lucifer chuckling somewhere to the front of the house.  Sam lunges forward, following the sound.

“Oh but I am, Sammy.  And you know I am.  You’re still down here with me, still my servant and bitch.”

“No I’m not!” and then Sam’s running out the front door, into the snow, chasing a phantom that he thinks is real, screaming for Lucifer to come out and face him, the snow and ice tearing at his bare feet and he’s swinging at the wind, tears pouring down his cheeks and freezing before they hit the ground.

White blankets his vision, the intensity of it making his head and nerves scream in pain and Sam wants to die, to just let it all be over and end him to nothingness and yet he still fights, raging and shivering until he has nothing left.

The snow is soft and coldly inviting as Sam sinks to his knees, moisture frozen on his face as he gives one last sob and then unconsciousness pulls him under, Lucifer racing towards him with open arms.

___

Castiel is happy.

He and Milton are in the older man’s truck, food and clothes and other essentials all tucked up under a tarp in the back, driving back towards the cabin and Castiel starts to feel some hope, intent on making Sam pancakes, chocolate chip with warm butter on top, the one indulgence Sam has really ever allowed himself food wise, looking forward to giving Sam a proper bath with pine-scented soap made right there in town and then even has a stack of books for later, Leaves of Grass and The Lord of The Rings among them, wanting to make a fire and curl Sam around him as he reads.

Milton’s humming along to the radio as they pull up to the cabin, Castiel practically bounding out of the cab, smile on his face as big as you please – only for him to stop dead in his track when he realizes the front door is open – and Sam’s laying facedown in the snow twenty feet away from it.

“Sam!”  Castiel trips over himself to get to him, Sam unmoving as he turns him over, Milton right behind Castiel as the angel gets to his knees and lifts Sam off the ground, gathering his cold body in his arms and hurrying him inside.  He carries Sam to the bedroom, stripping off hit wet robe and underwear, quickly taking off his own snow-covered clothes, Milton getting the blankets from the living room where Sam had left them and tossing them over Sam and Cas both.

“I need the rest from the truck.”  Cas wraps his arms around Sam, pressing his head to Sam’s chest and listening hard – his heartbeat is there, just barely, Cas willing himself to radiate more heat from what small vestige of Grace he can still feel.

Milton tears the packaging of the additional blankets with a wicked looking Bowie knife, putting them over the rest and tucking them around Sam and Cas.

“I’ll go and get the fire going again.  Damned rental company, not updating these things with some goddamn heat.”  Milton bustles out, leaving Cas alone with Sam – he can already feel Sam’s skin starting to warm, between him and the eight thick blankets piled on them.

“Sam, what have you done to yourself?” Cas murmurs against his chin.

He didn’t think things would get so bad that Sam would try to kill himself, if even that’s what this was.

Castiel violently hopes not.

Milton comes back in ten minutes later, having used the last of the firewood.  “Is he…”

“No, he’s not.  But he’s just barely holding on as it is.”

“We need to check him for frostbite.”  Milton says it quietly and lifts up the edge of the blankets, Cas moving so that Milton can look at Sam’s fingers – they’re very, very red but the signs of deterioration aren’t there, then moving along to his toes and legs, Cas moving and shifting himself to preserve Sam’s modesty – he knows he’d hate to be exposed like this.

“I think he’ll be fine but right now he needs to be kept warm.  I’ll keep the fire going and get you boys settled in a little more.”  With purpose Milton ducks from the room, leaving the door open should Castiel need anything.  Castiel hears him open the front door to go back outside to the truck, turning back to Sam and drawing the blankets back up around them and burying his face in Sam’s neck.

“I shouldn’t have left you when you needed me most.  I’m so, so sorry Sam.”  Castiel clutches Sam even harder, feeling helpless and lost and like there’s simply nothing he can do except keep Sam warm.  He can feel his Grace still working under Sam’s skin, repairing and healing and it’s almost a certainty as to that’s why Sam’s not dead right now.

He lays there for two hours with him, listening to Milton settle them in, occasionally poking his head in for an update, hovering without acting like he’s doing it – Castiel is already endeared to him. 

“I’ve got all the cabinets and everything full – can I do anything else to help y’all?”

Castiel looks at him from where he’s currently laying propped against Sam’s side.  “I don’t think so.  All I can do now is wait and you don’t have to be here for that.  I thank you, Milton.”

“No need to say any sort of thanks – but I will give Bobby a call and let him know his boys are alright.  I’ll see if I can get by here tomorrow with a phone of some sort so you can talk to him yourself.”

“I appreciate that, truly.”

“See you boys tomorrow then.”  With that, Milton’s gone.

Castiel lies there for another twenty minutes, starting to doze off when he feels Sam stir, a low, soft gurgle coming from his mouth.

“Sam?”

Sam stills then starts to flex his fingers, trying to figure out what he’s touching.

“Can you hear me?”

Sam’s skin is warm now, his body coming out of shock, Castiel almost feeling the blood starting to move faster through his veins as his vital systems come back online, Cas sitting and straddling Sam’s stomach as he drops little kisses along Sam’s cheeks and chin, fingers stroking his hair gently.

“I’m here, Sam.” 

Sam’s eyes open slowly, his mouth parting as he takes in a deep breath, half expecting to see the Devil but there’s no one but Castiel, beautiful, wonderful Castiel, his one and only angel.

“You’re not Lucifer.”

Cas smiles and touches his forehead to Sam’s.  “No, I’m not.”  Cas hugs Sam tight, Sam damning how much it’s going to hurt to return the action and putting his arms around Cas, feeling Cas’s bare skin underneath his fingertips and rubbing the jut of his hips and lower back, ground himself back to a reality he didn’t think he’d see again.

“If this is your idea of romance Cas then you should know I tend to like the awake stuff a lot better.”  Sam gives him the smallest of cheeky smiles and Cas kisses his left dimple.

“I was trying to keep you warm, you ass.  It appears that you wanted to make snow angels in just your bathrobe.  Face down.”  Cas leans back so that he can look at Sam’s whole face.

“Yeah, about that – Cas, I don’t know what happened.”  Sam looks sorry again and Castiel really, really wishes he didn’t.

“We’ll talk about it later, Sam.  Now did you say you were hungry before?”  Castiel wants nothing more than to get Sam’s mind off of his own misery right now.

Sam smiles and brings a hand up to run his fingers through Castiel’s hair.  “I think that was brought up earlier, yes.”

“I have ingredients for chocolate chip pancakes, if you’d like some.  There’s more than that as well.”  Cas gets up from the bed, removing the blankets from around Sam. “Would you like to see?”

Sam eases himself up, checking for any further damage.  Save for still feeling a little cold he can move fine, moving to get off the bed, only to be stopped by Castiel.

“Wait here.”  Cas disappears back towards the living room, coming back in a few minutes with a proper set of warm pajamas, underwear, and wool socks.

Sam’s a little speechless.

“Where did you get these?”  Sam puts them on, grateful for the dry, soft material against his skin and he instantly begins to feel better.

“Bobby’s friend remembered you, Sam.  And he’s extremely grateful for what you did.”  Cas smiles as Sam tugs the socks on, helping him to his feet.  “He said that you were a hero and that this was the least he could do.”  Cas kisses him on the cheek and rubs his thumbs over Sam’s stubble covered jaw.

Sam’s looking at their joined hands between them and the floor below them, unsure of what to say next.  “Been a while since I got a decent set of pajamas.”

“Like I said, there’s so much more Sam.”  Cas leads him gently to the living room where their clothes rest on the couch and floor, still in their bags and Cas lets Sam look through them, feeling the new shirts and jeans, the paper bags crinkling as he examines each and every one.

“So you managed to get me an entire new wardrobe?”

“Actually, he gave it to you.  For saving the world.”  Cas steps closer and puts an arm around Sam’s waist and kisses his shoulder.  “I told him everything.”

Sam’s still in a state of disbelief at Milton’s kindness, fighting back tears and setting the pair of jeans he’s holding down.  “I can’t believe it.”

“It’s true, Sam.”

Sam nods then turns to Cas and hugs him, burying his nose in Cas’s hair and holding him tight.  “Thank you.”

Castiel simply kisses his neck and closes his eyes, gently rocking Sam and letting his body heat seep more into Sam’s still cool skin.  “May I make you something to eat now?”

Sam nods and lets him go, kissing his forehead one more time and Castiel finds a pair of pajamas for himself, Sam helping pull the shirt over his torso so that he can kiss Cas on the lips when his head pops out of the collar, earning himself a smile.

“The answer to your question is still yes, by the way.”  Sam leads the way to the kitchen, eying the foodstuffs on the counter and already his stomach is growling in anticipation.

“I do remember how to make them, by the way.  Remember when you showed me how at Bobby’s?”  Castiel finds the griddle that comes with the cabin, cleaning it with a wet paper towel before starting to preheat it.

“I do.  That was a great weekend, wasn’t it?”  Sam sits down in one of the chairs at the table, watching Cas gather up the essentials for making the batter.

Cas smiles, remembering.  It had been the first time they had really had time together alone, sometime in between Sam’s detox and the finishing of the seals breaking – bliss amidst chaos, Sam and Cas learning just how hard they had fallen for each other and Cas had proved himself surprisingly adept at breakfast food – clearly some of Jimmy Novak’s influence still resided and Sam’s more than a little thankful for it, that easy domestic warmth that Castiel had kept with his chosen vessel.

Sam gets up and puts his arms around Cas’s body, kissing the nape of his neck.  Cas hums with the brush of lips, reaching behind himself and turning his head to talk against Sam’s lips.

“You don’t have to stand, Sam, I can handle it.”

“I know you can – but right now I need… well, you.”

Castiel understands, truly.  Just because Sam wants pancakes doesn’t mean that he still doesn’t need Cas.

“And I’m here for you, no matter what.”

Cas makes pancakes with Sam at his back, not minding at all the solid, reassuring presence, glad that Sam feels like being close rather than closed.  Cas thinks it’s more of Sam needing something tangible to hold onto to keep him from slipping again but he’s not going to say a word.

Instead he focuses on Sam’s arms around him and making pancakes, pouring the batter, letting them cook, and then flipping, stacking them on a plate until there are a dozen, perfectly shaped and filled just right with chocolate chips.

Castiel realizes that he’s hungry too, and the sensation is unlike anything he’s ever felt.

Sam pours two glasses of milk, noticing Cas had looked at the food he was making with more than just almost scientific curiosity – it was with hunger.

“I’m more than willing to share, if you want.  I know you don’t really eat but…”

“I would like that very much.”  Castiel gives Sam another kiss before setting the plate down on the table, getting the butter (not warm but room temperature – close enough) and putting it between them.

They eat in companionable silence for a while, Sam demolishing the first three in five minutes and two glasses of milk, Cas watching him to make sure Sam’s getting his fill – he has no issue with making more, should Sam need them.  Cas is about to start on his second when Sam clears his throat and speaks.

“How bad is it?  You not being able to feel your Grace, and be honest with me Cas, please.”

Cas sets down his fork and sighs.  “Like part of me is missing, more than anything.  It’s to the point where I know it’s supposed to be there but I simply can’t feel it.  I know it should be, but it’s not.  It’s not like when I left this body and could tell that Jimmy was empty – it’s muted, dull, like a hole that should be filled and has nothing to take up the space.”  Cas looks more confused than anything.

“But it hasn’t gone?  It hasn’t exited your body or gone back to heaven or anything like that?”

Castiel shakes his head.  “No.  I simply think that it’s been extinguished within me.  Earlier when I found you – I could still feel it and I tried to use it to warm you up.  After that…” Cas lets his voice trail off, Sam looking very, very concerned.

“You know you don’t have to keep sacrificing that for me.”  Sam looks down at his empty plate, voice quiet.

“And lead however much life I have left and not have you here to experience it Sam?  I tried that and couldn’t bear to be without you.” Cas comes around to where Sam’s sitting and crouches down, gently tipping Sam’s chin up with a touch of his fingers.

“I’d give up my angelhood ten thousand of thousand times before I’d allow this world to be without you.  To let myself be without you.  I know that’s incredibly selfish of me but it’s true.”  Cas brushes a thumb over Sam’s cheek, not expecting Sam to give an answer if he doesn’t want to.

Sam doesn’t say anything, so Cas keeps going.  “You are of course free to make your own choice from here, Sam.  You’ve always been able to do that with me, and you know it.  But I couldn’t let you suffer as Lucifer’s plaything for the rest of eternity, not when I had found a chance to get you out.”

Sam’s gaze locks with Cas and he exhales, slowly.  “Castiel, look – I’m not mad at you for getting me out or at anything you’ve done for me. I’m just angry that I feel so helpless and like I don’t know if tomorrow I’ll wake up or if whatever the hell’s wrong with me is gonna kill me.  I mean, being a hunter you expect that but then I had some control over it but this… Cas, it’s different.  And I’m so fucking scared that this still isn’t real and I’ve gone completely crazy.”

Sam doesn’t shed a tear but he clenches his jaw, hard.

Cas puts his hands on Sam’s shoulders and draws him in to his body so that Sam can rest his forehead against his shoulder.  “You have nothing to be afraid of with me.  I know that my words aren’t necessarily going to make anything better but please know that they are true.  I wouldn’t deceive you like that Sam.”

Sam nods against his shoulder, Cas stroking his hair.  “I know you’re real, at least.”

Cas kisses Sam’s temple and wraps his arms around him a little tighter.  “What is it that gives me away?”

“Lucifer never got your shoulders right.  In all the times he made me imagine your death he always made you just a little too broad – you looked like you would fit right against me.   But here…” - Sam stands and turns Cas so that his chest is to his back – “It’s right.”  Sam puts his arms around Cas, taking his hands and clasping them with his over Cas’s belly.

Sam kisses Cas’s neck, burying his nose in the crook and inhaling, eyes shut tight against Lucifer sing-songing “it’s not real” in his head, desperately trying to ignore him.  Eventually Lucifer’s voice fades until all Sam hears is the sound of his and Castiel’s breathing, quiet and comforting.

Cas turns and cups Sam’s face, kissing his chin.  “You’re still cold.”

Sam nods and looks into Cas’s eyes, sky blue and perfect.  “I think right now the best thing would be a hot bath.  I feel sticky and I have to smell bad.”

Cas gives a small laugh and nuzzles Sam’s cheek.  “You could be covered in sheep’s blood and innards and I would still come to you without hesitation.”

“You pick the oddest metaphors, Cas.”

“It works, does it not?”   

Sam gives him a brief kiss on the lips. “I guess so.  Do you want to come with me?”

Castiel nods, figuring the mess of dishes can wait until later.

“This time I won’t leave you either, I promise.”

Sam leads Cas to the bathroom, helping each other shed clothes and for the first time since Cas pulled Sam out of the Pit he feels like Sam – and he – may survive this.  It’s not as though Sam’s dead, just worn. Castiel can fix worn and in turn repair himself – Cas knows what humanity is like, can learn to live and adapt.

At least he hopes so.

They simply hold each other close as the tub fills, Cas taking a moment to inspect Sam’s body.  The burns where Lucifer had tried to extract Sam’s soul have all but faded and the redness from the exposure to the cold is already looking much, much better.  Bodily Sam doesn’t look bad – the sharp definition of muscle is still there, looking as he did before the events at Stull Cemetery.  Castiel is glad for it, even if Sam’s internal strength still has a lot of recovery to go through.  He can see that plainly in Sam’s eyes – the weight of what he’s experienced pulling him inward, the life and light that normally blossoms so readily and easily in those hazel brown orbs dulled by pain and suffering of an unimaginable nature.

And yet, Sam’s here.

“You don’t have to look at me like I’m about to disappear, babe.”  The pet name catches Cas off guard and makes his heart skip about ten beats. Castiel splays his fingers over Sam’s anti-possession tattoo and rests his palm to feel Sam’s heartbeat to mask his insides turning slightly to mush.

“And watching you do it was painful, Sam.”

“I know, Cas.  I know.”  Sam kisses his forehead and Cas takes his hand, getting into the now full tub first and sitting so that Sam can be in between his legs.

It’s wonderfully warm compared to the snowy outside, Sam shutting off the tap and noticing that the water’s steaming, easing the still somewhat sharp ache in his body.  He can feel that Cas’s Grace has worked more but it’s still raw, still sore the way he feels like new stitches have closed over a fresh wound.  He quickly racks his brain for an idea, a half-plan, something that might speed the process along so that he doesn’t feel the constant urge to cough up his innards and pass out.

There’s nothing he knows of.

“Sam?”

Sam must have gone still, lost in his thoughts and the note in Cas’s voice is one of more than slight worry.

“I’m here.  Just… thinking.”  Sam’s quiet, settling back more against Cas’s body, smaller than himself but still enveloping in the warmest of ways.

“Of course. May I wash you while you think?”  Cas grabs the peppermint scented soap and starts to lather his hands, hand made by Milton’s sister, as he had found out when he selected it. 

Sam gives his assent with a kiss to Cas’s shoulder and closes his eyes, Castiel’s sure, strong hands moving over his body with careful deliberance.  It feels like home, not at all like Lucifer’s icy embrace, intended to dull and make Sam submit to him.  Castiel is all quiet comfort and sureness, soothing as he cleans Sam’s body, his lips pressed to the back of Sam’s neck the whole time, as if to say “I’m here and not leaving anytime soon.”

Sam’s extremely glad for it.

Eventually Cas moves lower, the bar of soap in hand as his hands disappear under the water to rub over Sam’s stomach, fingers dragging with the soap and it sets a fire across Sam’s skin, small and distant but nonetheless there – it’s arousal he feels, the first in over six decades.  It was always forced with Lucifer and even then rare, not caring one way or the other about Sam’s pleasure, just using him to fulfill his own twisted desires. 

Sam feels a little sick at thinking of Lucifer when he’s in Castiel’s embrace like this and he hopes to God Cas doesn’t notice.

“If you wish me to stop Sam, I will.  I know that he – “

“It’s fine, Cas.  It’s just that I kind of forgot how good it felt, with you.  Hard to remember when all I’ve had for sixty years is...”

He can’t bring himself to finish it and now he feels positively vile for letting his torment in on Castiel trying to make him feel good.

Cas’s hands settle right under his navel and stay there, thumbs rubbing gentle circles into the skin.  “I won’t let him take you from me like this Sam.  You are not broken, or filthy, or damaged because of what he did to you, not to anyone else and certainly not to me.”

“He raped me, Cas.  Repeatedly.”  The words burn like acid in his throat to say.

“That doesn’t mean you should be ashamed to feel good at my hand, Sam.  I have no desire to cause you harm and if you want me to stop, I can.”  Castiel doesn’t feel like the words do the least bit of good but he has to try and say _something._

Sam fights back a sob, his body telling him to give in, to let Castiel help take his pain away but Lucifer’s back, screaming _mine mine mine_ in his head, _my fucktoy, my plaything and no one elses’s_ and Sam’s so, so sorry that Castiel is touching him and having to experience how stained and ruined he is.

“I’m so, so sorry Cas.”  A wretched whisper and yet they’re incredibly loud in Sam’s ears, Lucifer cackling away in his head.

“Sam…” Castiel holds his boy close, Sam stiff in his arms as his body shakes with anger and sadness, the dam threatening to burst under the strain of holding back his emotions.

Castiel listens to Sam’s cries of pain, mental and physical, keeping his arms in place around his body until the water’s gone cold, Sam not even noticing until his shoulders finally slump in resignation and he’s just tired again, worn out and hurting and wanting to fall asleep and never wake up again.

“I’m a fucking mess, aren’t I?”  Sam gives a humorless chuckle, wiping his face clean of tears.

Castiel’s face doesn’t move from where it’s buried Sam’s shoulder.  “I don’t think anyone could go through what you did and not come out unscathed.”

“I’m a little more than unscathed, Cas” Sam says, parroting Cas’s term back to him. 

Cas nods and hooks his chin over Sam’s shoulder.  “How badly did he alter your mind?”

Sam exhales, figuring that he has to tell Cas anyway sooner or later.  “He’s still in me.  My mind, I mean.  I can hear and see and feel him.  That’s why I couldn’t…”

Couldn’t let you touch me, Sam wants to say.  Not with the Devil fucking with his head.

“You know he isn’t real.  He’s locked away, down there.  Forever.”  Cas manages to maneuver to where he’s now facing Sam, reaching for the plug behind him to let the tub drain and then refill it with hot water again – there’s no need to leave here, not yet.

“I know he is but it’s like he burned himself into me – there’s not just me in here and sometimes he’s not just in my mind.  He comes out too.  That’s why I was outside, in the snow.  I was trying to chase him out but I couldn’t catch him, couldn’t make him stop and…”

Cas strokes Sam’s wet hair and his face turns to an expression of understanding.  “It’s another way of making you think he still has control of you.  Angels sometimes leave a remnant of themselves within vessels, whether it’s deliberate or not.  Jimmy experienced it as well but I never made him suffer for it.”

“Is there a way to make it stop?”

Cas gives Sam an unsure look.  “Lucifer is – was- very, very powerful.  I don’t know if it would work, considering that I can no longer do much to initiate the method of ridding you of his influence.  It requires Grace and I don’t have any left to give.”

Sam looks glum for a moment before the spark of an idea comes to his mind.  “What about what you left in me – is it enough to make work?”

Cas looks more than uneasy at the prospect of using what’s helping to keep Sam alive but at the same time they don’t have many other options.

“I don’t know.”  The hot water’s filling up again, steam starting to fill the bathroom once more and it helps to clear Cas’s head.  “But Milton did give me a method healing your internal injuries and with them our hallucinations – I had forgotten about it until now, and I apologize for it.”

“It’s alright, Cas.”

“Would you allow me to try it?  I have no guarantees that it will work, much less have had time to see what exactly he had provided us with.”  Cas takes Sam’s hands and kisses them, asking for forgiveness via touch.

Sam pulls Cas forward, Lucifer quiet for the moment.  “Seeing as how we don’t have any other options at the moment what do we have to lose?”

Castiel doesn’t say _everything_ out loud but it doesn’t stop him from thinking it.

Instead he finishes washing Sam and hopes that Sam won’t be hurting much longer.


	4. Chapter 4

Dressed in dry clothes they examine the small box that Milton tucked in with their supplies, nondescript save for the runes carved into it, intended to protect against any otherworldly influence from damaging its contents.

Sam opens it, inside six small glass vials with different elements inside them.  There’s wolfsbane, foxglove, holy water, crushed poppyseed, holly, and the leaves of the olive tree – a mix for a cure all, dangerous to try but also effective in an overwhelming sort of way.

The missing ingredient of course is Grace.

“Where do we even begin with this?”  Sam inspects each container, turning them over in his hands.

Castiel rolls up the sleeves of his sweater to the elbows, thinking for a moment.  “The first step is to extract my Grace from your body.”

“How do you do that?”

Cas pulls out a metal syringe from the other box Milton gave them.  “With this.  It’s designed to hone in on the Grace and nothing else.  I’m afraid it’s going to hurt a fairly great deal though.”

Lucifer’s behind Cas, licking his lips at the angel while also eying Sam.

“He has a sweet little ass, doesn’t he Sam?  Maybe I should see what he feels like too – then I’ll have had both of you.”

Sam’s gaze narrows in anger, fingers balling to make fists and he’s about to swing when he realizes that he’s not actually touching Castiel.

“Sam?”

“I’m good.”  Sam clears his throat, ignoring his hallucination and its lewd gestures.

“Just remember that if it works Sam I can heal you to where he is no longer with you.”

“Yeah, I know.  I’m ready.”  Sam lays down on the bed, Cas standing next to him and picking his hand up, placing a kiss on the back of it where he’s going to put the needle.

“If you need me to stop, just say the word and I will.”

“Just do it Castiel – I trust you.”  The fact that Sam uses his full name belies how nervous he is.

Castiel swallows his apprehension and steadies himself.

“Here we go.”  The needle sinks into Sam’s skin, right on the vein that runs out from behind the knuckle of Sam’s ring finger.  Sam has beautiful hands, worn by hunting yes but still so warm and caring, skilled and perfect and Castiel longs for their tender touch against his skin.

Sam’s eyes are closed, jaw clenched as the Grace in his cells begins to pull itself from them, rushing towards the point of extraction and that’s where it hurts the most, so much energy focused through one tiny point and Sam has to fight his body back down onto the bed to keep from writhing, Lucifer sitting between his legs and watching in sick fascination as Sam suffers through it.

“Not today” Sam growls, fighting against the vision that’s not there and feeling his body threaten to give out, removed of Cas’s Grace but he holds on tight, focuses on where Cas’s hands are touching him, solid, safe, reassuring Sam that he won’t let him go.

Finally the burning stops and Cas pulls the needle away, no other evidence that Sam’s skin was every damaged save for a small red mark.

“I’m finished Sam.”  Castiel leans down and kisses his forehead, smoothing back his hair.

Sam nods, drawing a deep breath. “Make it happen babe.”

Cas goes to the small mixing bowl he set on the nightstand, chanting in a mixture of Latin and Enochian, pouring each element into it and watching them mix, the stuff smoldering blue-white as it comes together and Cas slowly adds in his Grace, making it spark and cause the room to smell of pure ozone, the scent of pine and wood purged and it turns to half-liquid, tendrils of vapor curling up from the bowl.  Castiel looks to Sam as he finishes the incantation, very quickly sliding into unconsciousness as the final words are uttered.

“Stay with me Sam, please.”  Cas gently sits Sam up and brings the bowl to his lips, the mix pouring into Sam’s mouth and Cas makes sure he swallows it all, the bowl clean as he brings it away and it glows faintly behind Sam’s skin, working its way into his damaged body and Castiel can only hope it’s not burning away at him instead, feeding off of Sam’s weakened state.

Castiel prays.

He prays for three solid hours, both hands clasped around the same hand he’d put the needle in, wishing so very badly that he could feel their saving grace working within Sam, that his Grace could reach out and see it but he can’t, hoping with every fiber of his being that this will work and Sam’s going to wake up soon.

___

Inside Sam, chaos reigns supreme.

Lucifer’s screaming, being chased by Sam through memories, trying his best to run but here Sam’s suddenly had control hurtled back to him, leaving Lucifer detached and angry and scared.

Sam never figured that the Devil himself would be so terrified.

He tramps over the landscape of Sam’s childhood, through classrooms in twenty different states, every time he nears Sam he feels himself starting to come apart, unable to touch him, his prodigy, his heir, the Boy King – it makes him shriek with darkly divine wrath.  Sam keeps coming, bare hands ready to tear Lucifer from his body.

“You cannot escape me Lucifer.”  Sam chases him across Kansas, seeing himself and Dean coming out of their old house after they put Mary’s spirit to rest.

“I own you!”  Lucifer’s running but he’s getting weaker, nearing Bobby’s house after Meg was expelled from his body. 

“Then why run from me?”  Sam corners him in St. Louis, the FBI waiting outside that bank for Sam and Dean to come out to be arrested.

Sam chases him through Cold Oak, past the scene of his first death, all the way to Dean’s deal and sacrifice, not letting the memories Lucifer’s trying to drag him through slow him down, ignoring them, focused on the single goal of ridding Lucifer from his mind.

They’re at Stull, Sam watching himself beat Dean to a bloody pulp, Castiel dissolved into a million billion tiny pieces and Bobby dead- Sam corners Lucifer against a headstone, finally caught up to him and his hands are around Lucifer’s neck.

“Get. The hell. Out!” Sam squeezes and wrenches, Lucifer trying to absolve himself of Nick’s body and fight out in his true from, legs lifting off the ground as Sam raises him, nothing but fury and intent in his eyes as he chokes the life out of the Devil, everything around them fading in a void of black, then white, then changing back and forth until Lucifer disappears like so much ash blown away in the wind, his last words fading with him and then Sam’s left with nothing at all, all round him all consuming blackness and it’s then that Sam gives, falling back into himself.

It’s the first time in years upon years that he’s felt completely at peace.

___

Those three hours turn into overnight – Cas ends up staying awake the whole time, eventually putting blankets around him and Sam, not daring to get up and try to get a fire going lest Sam should awake without him.  Castiel ignores the nagging thought of “if he wakes up” pointedly, instead choosing to focus on what he can hear of Sam’s distant heartbeat.

The snow is starting to fall outside again as Cas starts to drift off, curled up against Sam’s side with his head on his chest, pillowed in his spot that has brought him comfort for over a year now, the one place in the universe where Castiel feels serene, calm, unburdened by the responsibilities of angelhood.

He’s about to fall asleep when there’s a knock at the front door – that’s when he remembers that Milton said he would be coming back tomorrow.  Reluctantly Cas gets up, leaving Sam tucked in as he rubs the tiredness from his eyes and goes to answer it.

“Mornin’, Cas.  How’s he doing?”  Milton brushes the snow from his clothing before he comes in, a plastic bag clutched in his hand that he passes off to Cas before taking off his heavy overcoat.

“We performed the ritual last night – that itself worked but Sam is still asleep.” 

He won’t say unconscious.

“That’s to be expected – it’s a tough spell to handle.  But if he’s asleep then that means it didn’t kill him and that’s a very, very good sign.”  Milton notices that the fire is dead and there’s no more firewood – something that will have to be corrected sooner rather than later.

“May I see him?” Milton gestures towards the bedroom, not daring to go without Castiel’s permission.

“Of course.”  Cas extends his hand in invitation, setting the bag down as Milton treads towards the back of the cabin. 

Sam’s still asleep, his slumber undisturbed by dreams or hallucinations, his breathing more obvious now than it had been yesterday when Castiel had first worked the ritual into him – that much he is glad for.

Milton steps close to the bed and lays a hand on Sam’s forehead.  “He feels fine.  He’s strong Castiel – but he’d have to be, to take on Lucifer himself and win, right?” Removing his hand he turns back to Cas.  “Just let him awake on his own and I think he’ll be just fine.”

Cas nods, grateful for the news.  “Thank you.”

“No problem.  Now let’s go chop you boys some more wood – I brought along something that will speed the process along a lot quicker.”

Cas hefts his axe outside, only for Milton to grab a rather fearsome looking chainsaw out of the back of his truck and suddenly Cas feels a little ill-equipped.

Milton looks at Cas as he studies the ax in his hands and smiles.  “It’s still useful.  Just not in this weather.”

“I managed just fine the other day with it.”

“Yeah, but how long did it take you?”  Milton teases gently.

Cas grumbles and pointedly starts chopping with determination.

They work in silence for a while, save for the noises of wood splitting apart and Castiel feels hopeful, more so than earlier.  It’s not so bad now, knowing that Sam will live and most of all live free of Lucifer’s influence – it’s also better to have rid Sam of him now rather than later.  The state that he was getting to was starting to terrify Cas – without Milton Sam would be dead by now, he’s sure of it.

Soon Milton puts down his chainsaw and wipes his brow.  “Got it touch with Bobby last night, by the way.”

Cas stops swinging and lowers his ax.  “What did he say?”

“I told him you boys were holed up right now here in Swan Lake and that there’s no pressure for you to try and come back to the world yet. He’s just glad you’re alive.”

“Did he say anything about Dean?”

“Yeah.  Said that he’s been doing alright with his lady friend but…”

“He misses Sam.”

“Exactly.”

Cas ponder his words for a moment before speaking again.  “I’ll talk to Sam about this, when he wakes up.”

“Just be easy on him.  They are still wounds that need time to heal completely, just understand that.”

More than anyone else, Castiel does.

___

 

The moonlight glides across the snow outside their cabin like a swan over a lake, gracefully so to the point where it’s fluid, not at all disturbing the landscape it illuminates.  It reflects off the trees and frozen lake a mere hundred yards from the cabin’s rear door, bathing the area in a silvery light that reminds Castiel of starlight against his wings.

He misses his wings, dearly.

Sam’s still asleep, having not even shifted in his sleep since the spell was worked within him to heal his broken body and spirit.  Castiel was tempted to move him but Sam looks fine as he is, face relaxed and untroubled by his mind.  Cas had laid his head on Sam’s chest a couple times, noticing how each time he’d done it his heartbeat had gotten even stronger.  Castiel rejoices internally for this, glad that Sam’s getting better with each passing moment. 

He longs to wrap his wings around Sam, knowing he’s completely safe in their otherworldly embrace.  It’s comforting for both of them, something shared only between the two of them.  He thinks of how they’d done that for the first time, that terrible night after Sam had come out of the blood detox, thinks of how ever since meeting him Sam had looked defeated, like he’d finally had his tremendous spirit taken from his very cells.  Castiel was (and still is) a merciful being – and Sam was badly in need of some divine comfort.

So he’d put his wing around him on that back stoop and drawn him in close, confessed their feelings for each other and ever since that first contact of their lips touching each other Castiel has been flying higher and higher.

Wings or not, he’s still soaring and wants to bring Sam back up with him.

Hunger makes Castiel’s stomach rumble, bringing his thoughts back to more urgent physical needs.  He get up with a sigh, leaving the warmth of the bed and stretching his body once he’s on his feet.  He doesn’t fear to leave Sam now, giving his forehead a kiss before shuffling off, unused to this drained feeling of keeping vigil and being exhausted from not moving.  He wouldn’t give it up for the world, not when it’s Sam, but all the same it feels terribly human.

It’s a glum thought, Castiel muses.  Perhaps he should get used to it.

There’s peanut butter and jelly to be had and Cas has already had three over the last couple days, enjoying the taste of strawberry against the thick sweetness of peanut butter (creamy is best, Sam had once told him – Dean’s crazy for liking the crunchy stuff) and although Cas had tried both just to make sure that Sam’s statement was accurate he’d had to agree with him all the same – the crunchy stuff had been a jarring experience.

He makes two, just in case Sam wakes up while he’s eating it and he’s hungry.  He thinks of how when Sam’s eyes open again he’s going to kiss him, full and passionate because Sam deserves nothing but all of him.  Castiel never had a true sense of belonging to someone before he met Sam, not in an intimate manner.  Was he a member of the garrison, a warrior of God?  Absolutely.  But then it had been just rank and file, fall into step and follow orders, kill heaven’s enemies and think nothing else of it.  Castiel had brothers and sisters but they weren’t close in the manner of humans.

Sam had been the one to awaken those feeling within him – Dean as well, to an extent.

Cas is in the process of tying the bread back up when a pair of warm, warm arms slide around him and there’s the smell of a sleep warm body and peppermint enveloping him, hands and fingers sliding together with his and Castiel  feels suddenly light-headed in a very, very good way.

“Hey, Cas” Sam murmurs as he kisses Cas’s neck, stubble tickling against his skin and it sends a lightning quick thrill down Cas’s spine, Sam’s hands rubbing and squeezing his fingers, linked just so and it makes Cas whimper into Sam’s mouth softly, his skin prickling all over as Sam draws him in even closer, lips dragging what feels like a brush fire with them on their way up to Cas’s left ear, sucking the lobe between his teeth and biting gently.

Castiel is one hundred percent positive he’s going to melt into a puddle and he’s absolutely okay with that.

Sam does let him go after a moment only to turn him around and before he can swoop in and kiss Cas a hand presses against his chest to stop him.

“Sam are you-“

“I’m fine, babe.  No more Lucifer, I swear.  Just you and me.” Sam smiles, not that million watt dazzler that makes the world light up but the one he reserves for Castiel only, fond and affectionate, dimples pitting his cheeks in such a way that Cas just wants to dive right into one and never come back out.

“Okay” is all Cas gets out before Sam’s mouth is on his, backing Cas up to the counter and he’s probably halfway crushing the bread but he doesn’t give a damn, not when Sam’s pressed up against his body, close and warm and making them fit together in such a way that Castiel’s mind goes pleasantly blank. 

Sam’s fingers skitter up his sides, blunt fingernails dragging even through the fabric of Cas’s blue sweater, making him press even harder into the kiss, Sam’s tongue asking permission on his lips and Cas says yes, lets Sam in and allows Sam to fill him, sucking on Castiel’s bottom lip as he makes himself at home, reaching down and lifting Cas by the backs of his thighs and putting him up the counter and fuck it’s sexy that Sam doesn’t even really have to bend to lift him like that.

Cas’s hands keep moving between caressing Sam’s sides and sliding through his hair, getting the feel of him back under his fingers, that which is already so familiar to him being relearned anyway and Cas is a willing student, Sam’s arousal digging into his belly and Cas hooks his feet in the small of Sam’s back, locking his legs so that Sam can’t get away from him. 

Not that Sam wants to go anywhere right now to start with.

Cas drops his fingers to Sam’s jeans, no belt keeping them up so that they’re already riding low, Cas lifting up the front of Sam’s shirt and scritching down his abs and stroking through his treasure trail, Sam groaning into his mouth – it’s a cheap move and Cas knows it, that whole area one giant erogenous zone that Cas quickly figured out makes Sam want even more.

Not to be outdone Sam gets his hands under Cas’s sweater and t-shirt, sliding all ten fingers up Cas’s stomach to his chest, revealing his belly where the fabric is hiked up around his wrists, thumb and forefingers on each of Cas’s nipples, gently tweaking them and Cas sinks his teeth into Sam’s bottom lip in response, sucking on the plush skin before Sam licks his way back into his mouth, fingers beautifully rough as they scrape over Cas’s soft flesh and make the angel rub against him.

Cas’s fingers go to the button of Sam’s jeans, asking “may I?” against Sam’s lips, Sam moaning “fuck yes” as Cas gets his jeans open and pushes them down, hooking his thumbs in the waistband of Sam’s boxer briefs and pulling them down to the root of Sam’s dick, stopping because Sam’s still got one hand under his shirt and the other cupping him through his jeans, rubbing his thumb over the bulging outline of his cock.

“God, Sam, touch me, _please_.” Castiel doesn’t give a single damn if he sounds desperate – it’s been far too long he’s gone without having Sam’s wonderful attentions lavished on him. Sam simply pulls the sweater and t-shirt from Cas’s torso in one go, leaving him topless and Sam claims his chest, sucking a bruise right over his heart as he gets Cas’s jeans off, pulling them all the way off and tossing them aside, left only in his socks.

Sam finishes undressing himself, rushing to get his plaid and undershirt off, tearing the last three buttons in his haste, shoving his jeans and underwear down.  The chill in the air is bracing, now that their naked – so Sam lifts Cas bodily and carries him to the living room where the fire’s still going strong, kissing Cas the whole way and they crash down onto the couch, Sam careful to not knock the wind out of Cas as he comes down on top of him.

“What do you want babe?” Sam whispers against Cas’s ear, one hand moving between them to grab hold of Cas’s cock, thick and weighty between his fingers as he strokes up, Cas’s foreskin wet with precome as he pulls forward and feels Cas’s moan rattle his teeth.

“That.”  Cas can’t process much more than that at the moment.

“Just that?”  Sam strokes him again, his cock heavy as it nudges against Cas’s balls.

“Yes.”  Cas grabs the hand not currently torturing him and links it with his right, pulling it down so that their joined fingers are resting against the arm of the couch next to Cas’s head.

“You got it” and then Sam’s kissing him again, Castiel maneuvering his hand down between them to curl his fingers around Sam’s cock, so thick that the tips of Cas’s fingers don’t even touch each other in the middle, stroking him as Sam’s doing, strong and tight just as Sam likes best, making sure his fingers catch on the crown of the head before he pulls Sam’s foreskin all the way up, keeping his grip firm as he strokes back down, rubbing his thumb over Sam’s frenulum and earning himself a wet, sticky blurt of precome that turns white and frothy on Sam’s dick as Cas picks up the pace.

Sam shudders at the feeling, growling as he presses his chest down onto Cas’s, bodies rubbing together and he’s still got one foot planted on the floor, the couch not quite big enough for them to both lay down longways across it.  He adds a twist as he strokes up on Cas’s cock, thumbing over the slit as he pulls back.  Castiel hitches his calf as best he can around Sam’s thighs and ends up lifting his lower body almost clear of the couch.

“Easy babe, I’m not going anywhere.”  Sam’s words are a gentle puff of warm air against Cas’s mouth, slowing his strokes down and letting Cas really feel it, that he’s here and alive and safe.

“I know.” Cas kisses him deep and desperate, gripping Sam’s fingers tightly as he feels his orgasm start to swell low in his gut, too soon but so long in coming that Cas doesn’t care if it doesn’t last.

Sam must feel it too, given the way he tries to fuck Cas’s hand – Cas loosens his grip jus that much, the insides of his thumb and forefinger slick with Sam’s precome and it’s wet enough to where Sam can almost slide freely, his fingers a fist around Cas’s dick as he pumps him hard, wanting Cas to get there and cross the finish with him.

“C’mon Sam, come for me.  Fucking want you to come all over me.” Cas’s voice is gravel rough, more so that it normally is, charged with pent up desire that’s so palpable it settles over Sam’s skin like a blanket.

“Gonna come, shit Castiel, shit, gonna fucking” – Sam’s is held in a silent roar as he comes, spunk landing so heavy and thick on Cas’s body that it’s audible against the flat of his belly, painting and splashing all the way up to Cas’s neck – Cas follows a second later, his fingers getting soaked with come as it spurts out, adding to the mess on his body and there’s a long moment where nothing exists but him and Sam, clinging to each other as they shake through their climaxes.  It’s heavenly, the chill gone from their bodies now, Sam’s forehead resting against Cas’s.

Cas is about to pull Sam in for a kiss when Sam pulls away, smile devious as he kisses Cas’s chest and then licks a trail through the mess of their come still pooled there, down and down and down until his tongue and lips are coated with it, Cas watching with a twinge of arousal as Sam’s long pink tongue scoops the white up, Cas grunting “c’mere” as he pulls Sam back up, his mouth already open.  It’s filthy, the way Castiel licks them from Sam’s mouth but he doesn’t care, Sam giving back just as good as he’s giving, pushing it into Cas with every bit of intent he can muster.

It’s getting close to nightfall before they finish cleaning each other up, making out and swapping spunk until Sam collapses against Cas, his face buried in his sticky, bleachy smelling chest.

“Hey,” Sam slurs sleepily right over Cas’s heart.

“Hello, Sam.”

Sam picks his head up and runs his fingers through Cas’s hair.  “I missed you, by the way.”

“I missed you too.”  Castiel looks relieved, like some great burden has been lifted from his shoulders.

“Bath?”

“In a moment.”

Castiel kisses Sam again.

By the time they’re cleaned up, their peanut butter and jelly sandwiches are starting to get a little stale.

___

It takes a surprising amount of energy out of Sam, in spite of having just slept for so long he passes out again until the next morning after their romp on the couch but he also doesn’t exactly make a mighty effort to get up either – they end up spending the next three days more or less in bed, making out and rubbing off against each other, showering in between and mostly remembering to eat.

It’s perfect debauchery and Castiel soaks in every moment of it, having Sam practically naked for a solid seventy two hours nonstop.  If this is what becoming human will mean for him – having Sam constantly like this – he thinks he may be able to handle it just fine.

They’re in the bathroom after their fourth round that day, Sam having given Castiel a proper blowjob and Cas returning the favor with enthusiasm, Sam finally shaving, Cas sitting on the toilet with his towel slung over one shoulder as he watches Sam, completely naked save for the cream on his face.

“I think it’s about time I tried to go back outside, just for something different.  See Swan Lake and stuff.”  Sam makes his chin point as he shaves the hair clean away.

“If you’d like, I’m sure Milton could come and pick us up.” Cas almost wants to reach for Sam’s balls, loose and heavy from the warm water of the bath, tempting like low hanging fruit but he resists, considering Sam’s holding a sharp object right to his face.

“I kind of want to walk and make sure everything’s still running like it’s supposed to.  I miss being outside and yeah it’s cold as hell but I’m starting to feel a little confined.” 

Castiel nods and gets up, taking his towel and drying Sam’s back where his hair’s still dripping.  “I understand.”

Sam looks at Cas in the mirror with a touch of concern in his eyes.  “Everything okay?”

Cas kisses Sam’s shoulder and starts to rub his upper back.  “When you said walking – I just realized that that is going to be how I get around now.  No more flying or being able to take you wherever you want to go or…”

Being able to protect you like I need to.

Sam sets down his razor and turns, cupping Cas’s face in his hands.  “We’ll find a way, Cas.  I promise.  You helped me and I’m definitely going to try and help you.  I owe you one.”

“Sam, you owe me nothing at all.”

Sam gives him a shaving cream sticky kiss.  “Yes I do – you pulled me up when I thought for sure that I was down and out.  I can’t just let that go unrepaid, you here?”

Cas nods and tucks Sam’s hair behind his ears.  “I do.”

“Good.  Now go get dressed and I’ll be out in a sec.”

Castiel complies, laying out clothes for Sam as well, frowning slightly as Sam starts to dress himself and covers up the body that Cas has had all the access he could possibly want for the last three days. 

Sam notices the look on his face and smiles as he pulls his socks on.  “Soon enough Cas.”

Castiel brings Sam his coat and throws it around his shoulders before down on his collar.  “I hope so.”

Sam does at least give him a good kiss before he starts to head out the door.

The snow is relatively undisturbed, the tire tracks from where Milton’s truck had been now completely filled in.  The road is about a hundred yards from the clump of trees their cabin is in, locking the door behind them with the keys that Cas had found earlier.  It’s snowing gently, no breeze in the air as they walk along the asphalt towards Swan Lake.

“It’s hardly changed in the last twenty years” Sam says as they start to get closer to the first buildings.

“Time does seem to slow here, yes.  Do you know anyone else here?”  Castiel pulls his hat down a little more over his head before retaking Sam’s gloved hand in his.

“No, just Milton.  You know, I don’t think I’ve actually seen him since we’ve been here?”  Sam kicks the snow at his feet, watching it burst in little white clouds before it settles back down to the earth.

“I suppose you have been asleep when he’s been close to you – would you like to see him first?”

“Nah.  I remember a diner here that had really great hot chocolate and by the time we get to there I think I may just want some.”

Hot chocolate actually does sound good, now that Castiel thinks about it.

The diner is still very much there, Lil’s Café is the name and it looks homey, completely with wooden rail enclosed front porch for patrons.  Of course no one’s occupying it now but as Sam opens the screen door and steps in the smell of home cooked Western cuisine hits his nose, the place half full of diners.

A middle aged woman named Patricia comes up to them with a practiced smile that crinkles the laugh lines around her eyes.  “Just two of you boys today?”

Sam gives her dimples and Cas can almost see the lady’s heart flutter. “Yes ma’am.”

“Follow me, darlings.”  She seats them near a window, the table made to look like a wooden barrel – it’s a little over the top but Sam figures it plays to the folks who come here for the summer resort.  Castiel looks around pensively, like he’s checking the place for demons or other things that go bump in the night.

“Cas.”

“Hm?”

“What do you want to order?”

Castiel must have missed the question, Patricia’s pen posed over her pad waiting to take his order down.

“Hot chocolate – Sam said it was quite something here.”

“He’s not lying either, honey.  You want just plain or Lil’s Special Recipe?”

“Special Recipe, of course.”  Special Recipe, Cas hopes, means something with a little kick to it.

“Coming right up.”  Patricia bustles off, leaving them alone.

Sam takes off his gloves and Cas grabs his left hand, cold lips kissing the knuckles.  “There’s something we need to talk about.”

Sam scoots a little closer and clasps Cas’s hands in his. “Sure Cas.”

“Bobby knows you’re topside again and Milton called him.  He said that if we need to stay off the grid for a while, he understands.” 

Sam nods. “I think that’s Bobby’s way of saying ‘take some time off’ more than anything – but that’s not it, is it?”

Cas shakes his head. “No. Do you think you should let Dean know?”

Sam’s cheerful look fades a little.  “I’ve actually been thinking about that, actually.” 

“I’m listening, if you want to share.”

Sam exhales before he continues.  “All of this really started with Cold Oak and when I died the first time and Dean went to Hell for me.”

“That was never in your hands, Sam.”

Sam shakes his head and ignores Cas. “And it’s all just snowballed from there, right up to Stull – the grand plan right?  So I figured if me going away is what it’s going to take for Dean to have a shot at living a good life then I’m gonna stay gone for a while.”

“Sam, he loves you more than anyone else on the planet.”

“I know he does – but I just need some time before I go crashing back into his life.  He’s got it better right now than he’s ever had.”  Sam looks crestfallen and Cas wills their hot chocolate to come faster.

“Sam you have to stop blaming yourself for things that simply weren’t your fault.”  Castiel squeezes Sam’s fingers and tries to put more warmth into Sam’s body. 

Sam looks up at Cas and shrugs.  “Maybe one day I will – but right now I need time to think and let Dean have a taste of normal for a while, okay?”

“Do you at least want to get in touch with Bobby soon?”

Sam gives another shrug.  “Maybe.  I also kind of want it to be just you and me for a while, if that’s alright.  So we can heal and get back on our feet.”

Cas can’t help the smile that tugs at the corner of his lips.  “I can’t say I dislike the idea.”

“Me neither, babe.  We make a good pair anyway – broken to hell and back and the only ones who really understand each other anyway.”  Sam chuckles and sits up when he sees Patricia coming with their hot chocolate.

“Here you go boys, two Special Recipes.  Figured you could use a piece of cake too – fresh lemon pound cake, hot out the oven.  It’s on us – Milton told me about you two.”  Patricia throws them a wink and a smile that almost outdoes Sam’s and leaves them to eat in piece.

The Special Recipe hot chocolate is absolutely divine – there’s a touch of cinnamon and mint in there, along with what Sam suspects is pumpkin but he’s not entirely sure – he doesn’t spend much time analyzing, enjoying the heat that seeps into his bones from it, the cake a perfect counterpoint.  Dean can go eat his heart out with pie – nothing will ever beat a good pound cake in Sam’s mind.

Cas isn’t even halfway done by the time Sam drains his cup of the last of his hot chocolate.  “It’s not going to eat itself, babe.”

Cas smiles and looks at Sam.  “I was watching you instead.”

“Somehow I don’t think watching me eat cake is exactly the sexiest thing ever.”

“It’s not that, Sam.  I’m just glad that I get to see you like this – happy, fulfilled.  Not beset by pain.”

Sam squeezes Cas’s hand as he talks.  “Look, I’m sure that you’ll see it again.  I’m a hunter, it comes with the territory.  But I get what you mean – I’m glad too.  Really, really glad.”

Sam still keeps listening for him, just in case.  He hasn’t heard from Lucifer, nor hallucinated him but Sam’s wary all the same.

Eventually Castiel does finish, savoring every bite like he’s tasting pound cake for the first time (which in truth he is) and Sam finds it to be incredibly endearing, the way Castiel takes his time.  Patricia waves them goodbye as they leave, handing Sam a bag with a little more cake in it (because boys are always hungry) and Sam turns on the puppy smile again, Patricia blushing right through her make-up and Castiel makes a point to hold Sam’s hand all the harder.

They make their way up and down the main street of the town, ducking into the shops and looking around, talking with townsfolk when they stop to ask if they’re just passing through or here to stay a while, munching the rest of their cake on the edge of the lake where a small park is before making their way back to Milton’s Provisions.

There are people in the store when they step through the door, Sam glad for the warmth against his cheeks – a wind has picked up outside and the last half-mile had been rough, walking directly into the wind. 

Cas helps Sam brush the snow from his shoulders and kisses each cheek to help warm it up, making Sam smile.

“Thanks, Cas.”

“Of course.”

Milton spots them from behind the counter, giving them a grin and motioning as if to say he’ll be there in a moment, Sam nodding back to him.  They browse around while Milton finishes with the customers waiting, Cas’s hand never leaving his and earning themselves more than a few odd looks, clearly unused to such open displays affection but one cold glare from Cas has them scurrying away.

This is one of the times that Sam’s very, very glad he has a boyfriend who can project divine wrath with total ease and lets him know by planting a wet kiss on his cheek.

Castiel does a tremendous job of looking disgruntled.

Milton works his way over to where they’re standing and sticks his hand out to clasp Sam’s.

“Boy, we owe you one and more.” Milton positively beams, making Sam look down at the floor and scratch the back of his neck.

“It was… it felt like the right thing, I guess.”  What else could Sam say, really?  Oh hi, I’m glad that you’re glad I stopped the apocalypse?

“No guessing about it, son.  You’re a damn hero and to those who know it well, we’re a little bit more than grateful for it.”  Milton strokes one side of his battleship-gray mustache, seeing that Sam’s uncomfortable with the attention and that people are starting to pretend to not be eavesdropping.

“Why don’t you come on back here and we’ll chat in a minute.”  They’re ushered into Milton’s office behind the counter, Sam’s eyes immediately going to the texts and books lining the walls – the man has books going back hundreds of years and Sam suddenly feels the urge to start perusing.  He grabs the book nearest him and gently lifts it, the Sanskrit reproduction printed on it leaving Sam scrambling for a translation.

“It’s about Indian water wraiths” Castiel provides, watching Sam’s brow as it furrows in concentration.

“So something I don’t need to worry about here.”

“There are American water wraiths.”

Sam chuckles and puts the book down.  “I don’t think we need to worry about them here – they’re bound to frozen solid this time of year anyway.”

Cas takes Sam’s face and brings him down to his level.  “I suppose not.”

Sam still tastes of hot chocolate and cake, sweet and warm to the core and Castiel eagerly licks into Sam’s mouth, humming in contentment as he leans against the edge of Milton’s desk and spreads his legs for Cas to step between them.  Sam’s warm immediately, Castiel reaching up to take his toboggan off and run his fingers through his hair, softer than silk and more than priceless.

“You boys need another moment?”

Cas breaks the kiss and turns his head, Sam trying to look embarrassed but failing, Cas acting completely nonplussed.

“Not at all.”  Cas lets go of Sam and leans against the desk next to him, glad for the long coat hiding his half-hard dick.

Sam reaches up to scratch gently at the back of Cas’s neck as he begins to speak.  “Thanks for everything you’ve done, Milton, honestly. You’ve helped Cas and I a great deal.”

“No trouble at all, Sam.  Like I told Castiel, it’s the least I can do for you.  Not often I meet the person who saved the world.”

Sam fidgets and avoids Milton’s gaze.  “I didn’t really do all that much.”

Castiel, who’s been silent for the last couple minutes, speaks up before Milton can say anything else.  “I think that perhaps now that it’s over with we should discuss our plans to remain here for a while and we could use your help further.”

Seeing the topic’s been closed, Milton raises his eyebrows slightly and nods.  “I see.  Well I’m glad to keep providing you with supplies free of charge – it’s no trouble at all, really.  My brother owns the property you two are staying on but I can work that to where you can stay as long as you like without charging you a dime – he’s in the business too.  You’re safe here, the both of you.”

Sam swallows against the dry air in the office. “Thank you Milton.”

“Don’t mention it.  Now while you’re here, is there anything else I can help you with?  A ride back to your place?  A chainsaw?”  Milton winks at Cas and smiles a little.

Castiel brushes the tease aside with dignity.  “I don’t think so.  However, we would like a pair of ice skates.”

Sam looks only mildly surprised. “Ice skates?”

“Yes.  I want to learn.”

Milton gets up from his chair and holds up a finger. “Let me see what I have.”

Sam gets up and takes Cas’s hands in his, looking down at their fingers. “I don’t know how to ice skate.”

“Neither do I but I’d love to find out how together.”  Cas gives Sam a gentle kiss on the lips, Sam still looking slightly hopeless at his boyfriend’s impulsive pursuits.

“Just so you know I never even learned to roller blade.”

“You have impeccable balance, Sam.  I’m sure you’ll do just fine.”

“Glad someone has faith in me.”

“Always.”

They’re kissing again when Milton returns and this time he just waits outside with their skates in hand.

___

It’s not quite sundown when they start to head back to their cabin, skates in one hand and the others joined between them.  It’s stopped snowing now, leaving Swan Lake blanketed over – it’s quiet too, not even the engine of a car to disturb the silence.  It’s a little like being the only two people on earth, Sam thinks.  Not an altogether unlovely thought, in a way.

Sam spots a drugstore up ahead and an idea forms in his head, gripping Cas’s hand a little tighter as they approach. 

“You still have your credit cards handy?”

“Yes.”  Cas pulls one out, a shiny American Express card bearing the name Richard Petty – and Bobby said he wasn’t a Nascar fan.

“Wait right here babe – be back in a sec.”  Sam hands his skates to Cas with a kiss, disappearing into the store and leaving Cas slightly confused.  He tries to look inside and spot Sam but the windows are covered with snow and ice – not that it matters as Sam’s back less than five minutes later, tucking a bag into the pocket of his coat before Cas is able to see what it is.

Sam takes his skates back and kisses Cas’s cheek, a conspiratorial twinkle gleam in his eyes that immediately has Cas curious.

“What’s in the bag?”

“Stuff.”

“What sort of stuff?”

“You’ll find out soon enough babe – now let’s get home before it gets any colder.”

Castiel tries to subtly get in Sam’s pocket but to no avail.

___

They spend the evening reading, both warn out from walking around town and Sam’s not quite as back up to strength as he thought – but the ache in his muscles is a pleasant one and he falls asleep listening to Cas read The Fellowship of The Ring, in spite of having read it so many times before the way Cas brings each character to life is fascinating – it’s just that Sam’s worn out.

Castiel doesn’t mind in the least, of course, not when he knows what Sam’s endured.  That’s why they’re staying here, to build each other back up, after all.  Cas just hopes that it’s long enough before they leave, to have Sam to himself for just a little while.

He’s ashamed at the thought, to think of Sam as exclusively his property and right - he immediately kisses an apology into Sam’s forehead, leaned over on his shoulder and sleeping peacefully.  Sam barely stirs, just shifts a little closer and tries to pillow himself more on Cas’s body.

He’s gentle about waking Sam and guiding him to bed, the last thing Sam sees before he shuts his eyes again being Cas’s concerned expression.

Sam doesn’t even have the energy to spare to think what Cas is concerned about.


	5. Chapter 5

Castiel wakes up alone.

He sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and looking around.  Sam’s side of the bed is cold, meaning he’s been… elsewhere – for a while.  Cas won’t bring himself to say gone. 

Sam’s things are still there, however and Cas’s unease immediately starts to evaporate, reaching over and checking Sam’s watch – it’s past ten in the morning, which means Cas has been asleep for nearly twelve hours.

If it’s possible, he feels over rested.

He gets up and relieves himself, followed by checking himself in the mirror.  He’s got stubble, dark over his cheeks and chin, scrubbing a hand over it and if he’s honest with himself it doesn’t look bad, noticing how it complements the dark of his hair and eyes.  Perhaps he’ll continue to let it grow for a while.  Sam would probably like it too, not having really experienced Cas with prickly facial hair before – or facial hair of any kind, for that matter.

Cas finds his coat and shoes, pulling them on over the flannel pajamas he’s been wearing, Sam not anywhere else in the house but in the distance Cas hears the steady thunk of metal against wood.  He doesn’t bother locking the house behind him, buttoning up as he starts to walk, another snowfall having covered up the tracks they made last night.

Sam’s humming to himself as he works, his coat laying off to the side and he’s just in plaid and jeans, a pile of firewood growing a few feet away from him as he splits the logs that Cas and Milton cut down a few days ago.  Cas watches for a while, the graceful swing of the ax as Sam hefts it, the way his biceps bulge and strain under his shirt as he brings it back down and splits the log right down the middle, never missing once, skill and accuracy acquired while hunting transferring easily to a task as simple as chopping firewood.

Except for the fact that Sam manages to look absolutely gorgeous while doing it.

Sam’s hair is just long enough to where he can tie it back so it’s off his neck, small ponytail gathered right at the bottom of his hairline, his shirt damp with sweat, clinging to him in such a way that the muscles of his upper back and shoulders are accentuated quite sharply, the fabric looking like it’s barely containing him.

Castiel actually feels lightheaded at just how incredibly _sexy_ Sam looks right now.

His undoing, however, is when Sam turns and he’s wiping his mouth with the hem of his shirt, Cas transfixed by the sight of Sam’s positively ridiculous abs flexing as he breathes, his treasure trail a dark line of damp hair that draws Cas’s eyes down in an absolutely sinfully enticing manner, Sam’s jeans dipped low and the waistband of his boxer briefs showing in spite of his belt being tightened as far as it will go – perhaps Cas had gotten them a size too big after all.

Sam of course hadn’t said a thing and truthfully Cas is glad he’s not.

“Hey, Cas.  Didn’t figure you’d be up yet.”  Sam walks over to where Cas is currently melting into the snow at his feet, using the tips of his fingers to tilt Cas’s chin up and meet his eyes. “You sleep alright?”

“Quite well, thank you.”  Cas thinks he says the words clearly but now he’s noticing the sheen of sweat on Sam’s neck – who knew that a body attempting to cool itself could be so damned infuriating.

“Glad to hear it – why are you outside though?  It’s freezing.”

“I was just checking on you.”  Sam swears he sees Castiel waggle his eyebrows a little but he can’t be sure.

Sam looks around at the firewood he’s been making, the snow, the trees, and then back to Cas.  “Think I’ve got it pretty well handled out here.”

“Are you sure you don’t need any assistance?”  Cas is two seconds away from jumping Sam and tackling him to the ground to lick every square inch of his body, frostbite be damned to hell.

“Mm hm.  I was about to head inside anyway.  Help me with the wood?”

It takes four trips to carry in all the wood that Sam’s cut, Sam doing most of the work and Castiel helping by watching Sam’s biceps bulge as he lifts the fruits of his labor, obviously feeling much better now as he hefts six split logs in his arms, long fingers curled around the bottom with ease as to not drop them.  Castiel feels the hot pull of arousal low in his stomach and he _wants_ Sam, reaching down and adjusting his half-hard cock as he follows Sam inside on the last trip, Sam either not noticing or at the very least pretending to not see his boyfriend’s obviously flustered state.

Castiel finds himself in need of water and ducks into the kitchen while Sam gets the fire going again, drinking one glass in less than thirty seconds and draining a second just as fast.  This whole sensation of thirst is something he’s still very much getting used to, finding it more than slightly aggravating.

Sam spies Castiel with his back turned and quietly walks up behind him, unbuttoning his shirt as he goes.  Cas has his coat off too, all the more easy for Sam to put his hands on him.  He waits for Cas to finish drinking before he slides cold fingers under the hem of Cas’s shirt right over his hips, thumbs rubbing over the sharp cut of his hipbones and making Cas shiver.

“Saw the way you looked at me earlier babe.”  Sam pours the words like honey into Cas’s ear, sweet and sticky and warm, sucking the lobe a but as he drags his fingernails over Cas’s belly and hips.

“You look quite attractive chopping wood.”  Cas tilts his head to the side so that Sam’s mouth and lips can have his neck, Sam alternating between gentle kisses and grazing his teeth over the sensitive flesh, making Cas break out in goosebumps all over.

“Think so?”  Sam takes his hands out from under Cas’s pajama top and starts working on the buttons, dragging his fingernails down Cas’s chest and stomach as he goes in such a way that it makes Cas want to dissolve in sweet, lustful bliss.

“Definitely.”  Sam just chuckles against Cas’s neck, the vibrations from his deep voice making his body tingle in anticipation.

Sam slips the fingers of his right hand down the front of Cas’s pajama bottoms and grabs his now hard cock, stroking gently as he pours more words into Cas’s ear.

“I have a surprise for you, babe.  When I got up this morning…” Sam moves his hand to gently pinch and roll Cas’s foreskin between his thumb and forefinger, making Cas moan.  “I thought about this.  Your cock, Castiel.  Been so goddamn long since I had it.”  Sam grips him a little tighter, squeezing down towards the base as the ends of his fingers tug at Cas’s balls as well.

“Even cleaned myself this morning too, just in case.  Need to be reminded of the only person who belongs there.  Don’t want to feel like…”

Like I’m still his, Sam thinks.

Castiel turns and cups Sam’s face, kissing him for a long moment before he pulls away.  “Sam, are you sure?”

In spite of all the time they’d spent together in bed over the last few days, Sam hadn’t made any sort of indication he’d wanted full sex and Castiel hadn’t pressed the issue on him.

“Yeah.  Just…”

“Yes?”

“Love me, Cas.  Is all I ask of you.”

Don’t be cold and demanding like him.

Don’t scare and torture me like him.

Don’t rob me of my own body like him.

Don’t take and not give back like him.

“I will, Sam.  You know I will.”

Castiel is more than a little terrified right now, Sam for the first time in all of it that Castiel has known him feeling _fragile._ He’s seen him beaten, bloody, scared, worn down but never as though all it would take is one touch to bring him to his knees.

“I love you” Castiel whispers as he kisses Sam again, gently asking may I come in with a touch of his tongue along Sam’s lips, Sam opening up, yes you can, fill me, remind me, taste me.  Castiel does, dips in and claims every inch of Sam’s mouth with his tongue, pushing the sweat-damp plaid shirt off of Sam’s shoulders and it drops to the floor, Castiel shedding his own sleep shirt behind him, starting to lead Sam to the bedroom.

Clothes are shed along the way, Sam’s jeans and underwear outside in the hallway, his shoes joining them in a pile, Castiel sliding his pajama bottoms off just inside the doorway, no underwear on to rid himself of.  He gently pushes Sam towards the bed, over to the left side so that they don’t have to and negotiate over the baseboard.

Sam ends up under Cas, the angel warmer than warm on top of him and Sam thrives on that body heat, comfortable and familiar and a perfect match to Sam, Cas’s smaller form fitting just right to Sam’s broad, broad shoulders.  Castiel stakes his claim on Sam with his tongue, C,a,s,t,i,el spelled out on the roof of Sam’s mouth three times, each one slower than the last.  Sam opens his body completely to Cas, legs spread and then tangled with Cas’s, his hands on his body, lighting little fires all across the soft, tan skin, making Cas want that fire to burn him whole.

“What do you want, Sam?” is the question asked as Cas pulls away from his mouth to draw a breath.

“Everything.”

Cas can give him that and so, so much more.

Castiel smooths  Sam’s hair back as he kisses him one more time before he starts to move, reluctant to leave that sweet mouth but there’s so, so much of Sam he needs to relearn right now.  He licks gentle circles in the hollow of Sam’s clavicle, back up the long curve of his throat to his right ear to gently nip and suck at the lobe, Sam moaning his name in response and Cas wants to hear it like that even more.

Down he goes, little love bites from one shoulder to the other, crisscrossing Sam’s chest with his mouth, occasionally flicking his crystal blue gaze up at Sam’s face and Sam’s in near-ecstatic rapture right now – Cas knows his body in and out, right down to the spots that even Sam sometimes forget make his skin tingle.  Gently but firmly Castiel lifts Sam’s left arm using one hand to hold onto Sam’s, kissing the curve of his pectoral before moving up to the inside of Sam’s bicep, sucking the taut skin as far he can into his mouth.  Sam cries out then, squeezing Castiel’s fingers tight.

Cas keeps going down, kissing into the damp of Sam’s armpit, burying his nose there and inhaling, sleep smell and peppermint and sweat and just _Sam_ , earthy and pure and beautiful.  He kisses the sensitive flesh there, making Sam almost giggle because it tickles before he moves, sucking on Sam’s left nipple as his free hand wanders down Sam’s stomach.  He sucks the bud of flesh hard, worrying it with his teeth as he strokes Sam’s cock, a large bead of precome getting smeared around the head and making Sam’s hips arch, hyper-sensitive as Cas plays with his foreskin, thumbing at the slit and frenulum.

“Cas, god, feels so fucking _good_ when you do that.”

Cas hums his assent, kissing his way over Sam’s heart before going back up to his mouth, another quick makeout session with Cas’s hand still pumping Sam’s cock at the same time.  Sam has no complaints, tasting the sweat of his body on Cas’s tongue and taking of it eagerly.  Castiel pulls away again, murmuring “I can make it even better” into Sam’s mouth before he shifts down the bed, stopping to swirl his tongue in Sam’s navel.

Sam gets his hands in Cas’s hair and tugs gently, Cas’s teeth scraping through his treasure trail and Sam’s brain finally gives up trying to form any sort of coherent thought – it’s all Castiel now, his body Cas’s to mold as he pleases.  Cas huffs warm air over Sam’s dick as his mouth hovers over it, fingers curled around the base.  He squeezes firmly as he strokes up, the head of Sam’s cock disappearing completely under his foreskin as it slides up.  Castiel holds it like that for a moment, the tip of his tongue disappearing into the opening to taste Sam’s precome as he prepares himself because not only is Sam thicker than thick but he’s blessedly long as well, just as good if not better than in the porn he and Castiel have watched together from time to time.

“Cas, c’mon babe, please – want your fucking pretty mouth around me.”  Sam’s fingers convey his words as much as his voice does, if not more.  Cas teases him for a moment longer, wiggling his tongue around before he slides the skin back down, Sam’s head shiny pink and wet with spit and slick.  Cas unhinges his jaw as he starts to swallow, closing his eyes as soon as the head is inside his mouth.  He works his way down slowly, opening up his throat and letting reflex to the rest, no gag to stop Castiel as he manages to get within half an inch of his nose touching Sam’s belly – as far as he can go.

Castiel was right about one thing – it feels fucking _fantastic,_ the first time he’s been deepthroated in an unbearably long time and Cas, in spite of sixty years hell time separating them is still a goddamn pro at this. 

It’s a wet, warm, slow process as Cas finishes adjusting to Sam’s girth more than anything, not the tenth or even hundredth time he’s done this but it’s still a lot – then again, it wouldn’t be Sam if it wasn’t a challenge.  Castiel loves that, loves that Sam’s not passive or impassionate – even on the receiving end of a blowjob.  Sam drags his fingernails over Cas’s scalp, fighting the urge to buck up into that sinfully good seraph’s mouth.

“Castiel…”  It’s breathy, imploring, asking him to move and do something and all the same stay right where he is.  Cas smiles around Sam’s cock and starts to bob his head, coming up to curl one hand around the lower half of Sam’s dick as the other starts to stroke at Sam’s hole, over the soft furl and perineum, not enough to do anything more than tease and titillate – it works anyway though, Sam’s back arching as he moans, Castiel sucking a little harder and drawing Sam’s foreskin up and sticking his tongue underneath it.

While Sam starts to fall apart Cas stops messing with his hole and gently tugs at Sam’s balls – loose in their sac from Sam’s body heat, Cas able to roll each one between his fingers with ease, individually and then then together.  Cas moves to suck on them, pulling in each between his lips and then letting go with a soft pop, feeling Sam stiffen even further in his hand.  He alternates, sucking Sam’s balls and then his cock, all the while Sam moaning and growling, hands in Cas’s hair or gripping his shoulders.  Sam’s super tactile during sex, loves to put his hands all over Cas no matter their particular role at the time.

“Cas, babe, gotta stop or I’m gonna come.”

Castiel pulls off of Sam’s dick and looks up with eyes so earnest and loving it hurts.  “It’s okay if you do.”

“No – want to with you inside me. Please?”

“Sam, you don’t have to ask me to do that.”  Cas crawls up the bed and kisses Sam deep and sweet, cradling his head, losing the ponytail that by this point is just barely holding on.  He runs his fingers through the still sweaty locks, smoothing them out before he moves back down Sam’s body and spread his legs.

Sam grabs a hold of himself behind his knees, long fingers fitting into the joint and pulling back, tipping his lower body up for Castiel.  Cas watches Sam’s face as he does, trust in his eyes and Cas gets it then – Sam’s only seen abuse to this part of his body for six decades, not the tender, loving touch he deserves and he’s still unsure but he wants Castiel to touch him so, so badly.

So Cas does.

He leans down and kisses the space above Sam’s hole, gentle and soothing as can be.  He starts with kitten licks, inhaling Sam’s scent, a blend of peppermint and musk and sweat, all of it heady and intoxicating.  Sam lets himself relax as Cas eats him out, licking all around and into Sam’s body, his arms wrapped around Sam’s thighs, fingers splayed to touch as much of Sam as possible, to let him know he’s there, he’s not going to hurt him or harm him. Sam’s thankfulness for it is boundless, letting go of his worry as Cas’s tongue explores and tastes – it all comes back to Cas in a rush, how much Sam loves this.  He’s slow but only so that Sam can feel it, can feel good and loved and appreciated. 

By the time Sam’s body is taut with pleasure Castiel’s chin is wet with spit, his tongue aching from eating Sam out and he’s ready now too, cock hard between his legs as he sits back, precome beaded heavy and silvery at the tip – he feels it smear around as he moves back up the bed to kiss Sam, Sam reaching down and stroking Cas gently at the same time.  Castiel moans, especially when Sam’s thumb moves over the slit and then brings his fingers up to his mouth, sucking Cas’s slick off of them and smiling.

“Want me to get your cock wet babe?”  Sam asks with such conviction that Castiel nearly melts.

“No. I want to be inside you, Sam.”

“You what babe?”  Sam’s tone says he wants more than that.

“To be in you.”

“Yeah?”

“Sam, please.”

“Now you tell me what you want, Cas.  Don’t be shy about it.”  There’s a touch of mischief in those eyes, mixed in with the naked desire.

Castiel _finally_ gets it. 

“I want to fuck you, Sam. I want to reclaim you as mine and erase him from your body.  I want to be the only one who earns you, you and your body.  That’s what I want.  To show you how much you deserve to be loved.”

And not just used.

Not abused.

Not taken for granted.

Sam nods, smiling as he kisses Cas butterfly light on the lips.  “In the table on my side, babe, top drawer.” 

Castiel is quick to move, reaching over Sam to get to the lube Sam’s stashed there, Sam stroking his cock while he has the chance and Cas shudders with pleasure, batting Sam’s hand away and pinning his wrists above his head.

“Later – but right now we both need something more.”  Another kiss that makes Sam growl into his mouth and Castiel loves it completely.

Cas is as slow and methodical (in a sexy way) about prepping Sam with his fingers as he was with his tongue, laying on his side with one of Sam’s legs around his waist, three fingers in just two minutes, curling and stretching without ever once touching Sam’s prostate, the absence of contact making Sam want it that much more – Castiel will give, yes, but he doesn’t see any need to hurt Sam in the least, not with what he’s about to do.

“Do you want to be on top?”  Castiel wants to give him the choice, should Sam want to be in control.

“No – want you.  Face to face and close.”  Sam’s breath hitches as Cas pulls his fingers out, as open as he can be.

There’s no condom sheathing Castiel as he wets his cock and moves forward in between legs, Sam grabbing him and guiding him in, maintaining eye contact with Sam as he slides in – those gorgeous hazel pupils dilate with every inch that sinks into Sam, Castiel as always thicker than he’s anticipating, Sam’s ever so kissable pink mouth held open as he neither inhales or exhales – just lets Cas into his body.

Once he’s bottomed out Castiel leans forward and takes Sam’s mouth, putting a hand on the back of Sam’s head and drawing him up to halfway sitting.  The angle makes Sam feel all sort of full, Cas’s dick right against his prostate, wrapping his legs around Cas’s back and tangling the fingers of his right hand in Cas’s thick, dark hair, softer than soft and the only thing he needs to ground him.  Castiel holds him there for a long moment, kissing him as they re-adjust to each other’s bodies. 

Sam’s familiar and new at the same time, warmer than Castiel remembers, more relaxed now and it dawns on Cas that what he’s experiencing is Sam finally at peace – he’s had the worst done to him possible and he survived and right now there’s nothing but him and Cas, right here in a little cabin in Montana where only two other people are.

Cas understands, and he shows it by keeping his mouth right on Sam’s as he leans him back down to the mattress and makes slow, sweet love to him, Sam gathered around him in long legs and warm lips, hitching a leg around Cas’s calf, urging him faster and faster, his hands linked with Cas’s above his head, Cas making his body sing on that just right note that only he can draw out – it’s comforting, beautiful, making Castiel’s being _resonate._

Sam comes first – he always does with Castiel.  Cas tries to draw it out for him, Sam finally having relented one hand so that Cas could carry him over that blissful edge, stroking as he’d hit Sam dead on the prostate, making Sam spurt between them, Sam’s imploring moans and sounds of pleasure pushing Cas with him – he comes deep in Sam, mouth sealed over Sam’s, screaming into him, lost in that high only Sam can give him.  It’s a long time before they start to disentangle too, minds foggy and hazy with pleasure as Cas rolls off of Sam and lays his head on his chest, done with being on top and wanting Sam’s arms and hands and heart.

Castiel falls asleep like that, with Sam stroking his hair and his heartbeat under his ear, leaving Cas feeling like absolutely everything is going to be perfectly fine.

___

They end up not going back outside that day, building a fire that roars softly in the background as they make lunch together naked, kissing between making grilled cheese and tomato soup, still warm from the contact earlier.  Wandering hands and the desire to kiss each other stupid turns into two more handjobs and Cas getting fingered right before they finally settle down for bed – it’s a constant state of lust and satiation side by side, Sam wearing a contented smile the whole time that Cas’s heart absolutely thrills to see.

The next morning after breakfast Cas immediately goes for his borrowed skates, standing by the door and waiting for Sam as he pulls on his coat.

“You know we’re probably going to fall and bust our asses more than anything, right?”  Sam’s a little doubtful about this particular venture but he also doesn’t want to put a dampener on Castiel’s enthusiasm.

“In which case I shall simply have to tend to any injuries in a loving and caring manner.”  With that, Castiel fucking winks and Sam’s not sure if he’s ever seen anything so abruptly sexy in his life.  “Besides, ice skating together, as I understand it, is supposed to be very romantic, is it not?”

Sam can’t disagree with that, at least.

There’s a dock out jutting out from the shoreline where their cabin is and they sit on it to put their skates on, Sam finding that his are just a touch too large but they’ll do, watching Cas as he laces his up, quick and deft in spite of the gloves on his fingers.  Sam offers his arm once they’re safely ensconced in their skates and it’s a wobbly, scary time as they try and stand.  Sam likes to think he has decent balance but this is a task all on its own – Sam’s starting to think that maybe he’ll just watch Cas if he manages to get upright himself.

The set of Cas’s jaw and eyebrows (hidden though they are under his scarf and toboggan) is encouraging though and he’s not going to let something as trivial as wobbly knees stop him.  The effort is noble and inspiring and cute – all up until Cas faceplants in the snow on the bank and Sam falls back on his butt on the dock, roaring with laughter.

The indignant look he receives as Cas readjusts his cap just makes Sam’s peals of mirth echo all the louder off the trees.

Cas is still in the snow when Sam finally recovers, glaring.

“C’mon Cas, it was funny – you were so intent on making it happen and then just… pbbbbbbt down to the ground.”

“I was doing just fine – I hit a dip in the ice.”

“You made it half a step.”

“Further than you did.”

“I also didn’t wipe out on the first try.”

“That’s because you haven’t even tried yet, Sam.”

Sam’s laughing again and Castiel decides he can get up fine without his help.

He tries, tries very, very hard – six times before he manages to get back to his feet and that’s only begrudgingly with the help of Sam’s outstretched hand.

“If we fall, we go together.”

Sam’s smile fades a little as Cas starts to lean to one side – only for Sam to help push him back upright with the assistance of the dock next to him.

They try just standing on the skates for a bit – it should be simple really, with all of Sam’s deftness and skill as a hunter and Castiel’s being an angel of the lord – except it’s not and it takes nearly an hour to just reach the end of the dock.

“We should try moving now instead of letting gravity do the work.”

“I do not think that’s a good idea.”

“You’re the one who wanted to learn.”

“So?”

“So don’t give me any of your ‘I don’t think this was a good idea bullcrap’ – we’re out here and we’re gonna do it.”

Cas gives Sam a lascivious smile.  “It’s a little cold out here but I wouldn’t be opposed…”

“Dean rubbed off on you in some very creepy ways, Cas.”

“I have no desire to be in sexual contact with your brother.  Only you.”

“That’s…” 

Sam groans so loud that he’s positive the whole of Swan Lake hears him.

“That sounds was most impressive, Sam.”

Now it’s Sam’s turn to glare.

Once they finish steeling their resolve Sam’s finally bound and determined to see this through – how hard can it be? He’s a quick study at most anything else so this shouldn’t be that much of a challenge. Crouching he kicks off like he’s going to run, only he slides, digging into the ice like he’s running track again (senior year he actually won a few meets, his legs finally not growing anymore) and it’s actually not hard if he doesn’t move from this exact angle.  Cas watches him for a minute, absorbing and learning and he kicks off  too, wishing he could manifest his wings for balance, instead leaning down like Sam is and gliding at a terrifyingly fast pace.

Sam sees Cas finally start to move under his own power and grins.  “I did it before you did” he sing songs.

Castiel’s too busy trying to not face plant again to deign Sam with a response. 

They skate close to each other starting out, should one of them wipe out and need help getting back up but eventually moving further away, zipping along with ease and Sam even manages a couple spins, clumsy though they are.  Castiel focuses on seeing how fast he can go, shooting across the ice like so much quicksilver and then zooming back towards Sam.  Cas cuts a nice figure on skates, Sam thinks.

Before too long they’re hand in hand, Cas more or less let himself be pulled along by Sam’s longer strides, being twirled around and then dipped for a kiss – it’s a very sweet gesture, no matter the fact that it nearly costs Sam his balance and he almost pancakes his boyfriend as a result. 

Sunset is upon them before they even realize it, having been outside all day on the ice, following the tracks of their skates and adding new ones – Sam even manages to make a crude heart with an S and a C in it, struck through with an arrow and Castiel positively beams at it, glomping to Sam when he realizes what he’s made and tackling him into the snow on the bank.

“You’re very sweet, Sam.”  Cas kisses Sam’s cold lips in an attempt to warm them up.

“Only to those who deserve it, of course.”

“Well I’m very glad you consider me worthy of it.”

“Always, Cas.”

They hold hands on the way back to the house, bumping into each other and smiling, content as can be with the day outside but Cas is ready for warmth and dinner, to be in Sam’s arms without bulky coats between them.

They shed their snow and ice damp clothes on the way to the bedroom, stopping every few seconds to help each other undress and kiss the chill from their skin, unhurried and sensual. Sam maneuvers them to the bathroom,  stepping over the tub and drawing Cas in with him.

There’s a shower curtain gathered behind the tub and Sam pulls it around, reaching down and starting the tap after it’s closed and adjusting the showerhead so that the initial blast of cold water doesn’t hit them.  It doesn’t take long before the water’s steaming hot and Sam cuts the shower on, pulling Cas into it with him.

It feels heavenly after being out in the cold for so long, the water cascading over their bodies in waves of just right pressure, Sam’s tongue sliding wet and smooth against Cas, trading open mouthed kisses that makes Sam hunger for more.  He reaches down to where Cas’s hard cock is poking into his hip, giving it a good stroke and sucking on Cas’s bottom lip at the same time.

“That feel good babe?”  Sam licks up the shell of Cas’s left ear as he asks.

“Yes, very.”  Castiel grips Sam in turn, pumping firmly.

“Want to make it even better.”  Sam pulls Cas’s cock level from its natural point upwards, sliding Cas’s foreskin back and pulling his own forward, their foreheads touching as Sam looks down between them, Cas holding himself steady with one hand as the other keeps Sam steady, Sam slipping the head of Cas’s cock under his foreskin slowly.  Castiel can’t hear much of anything save for his own beating heart and the sound of Sam’s breath, absolutely nothing else existing outside aside from them right now, here in the shower with Cas’s dick inside Sam’s.

“Sam…”

“Got you, Cas.”  Sam kisses him again, his other hand splayed across Cas’s chest, right over his heart, feeling the pulse rise as Sam starts to stroke between them.  It’s intense, so many sensitive nerves touching each other, slippery with precome and water, Castiel’s nerves going critical and he feels like he may pass out but it’d be more then worth it.  Sam’s careful and slow but so, so deliberate, a tight squeeze that doesn’t falter in the least and keeps Cas right in step with him. 

It feels as though hours pass between them, Cas’s hands all over Sam’s body wherever he can get them as Sam holds that bond between them, clueing in on when Castiel is about to come and speeding up, sucking on his tongue even harder, Cas pulling away and sinking his teeth hard into Sam’s jaw when he comes, eyes screwed shut as a dazzle of color bursts behind his closed lids, filling Sam’s foreskin with spunk and the slickness and close-up of nerves and sensation make his knees shaky, going to the floor of the shower and there’s Sam, huge and hard and all it takes is for Castiel to lick the come dangling from the end in a sticky, globby rope before Sam explodes, painting Cas’s face with long strands of spunk that lay over from his chin to his forehead, some of it surpassing Cas all together and hitting the wall behind him, washed towards the drain by the water coming in from behind Sam’s shoulders.

Sam doesn’t leave Cas down on the floor by himself for long, pulling Cas to his body and leaning back against the front wall of the tub, licking Cas’s face and mouth in an effort to clean him up, Cas still stroking him through the aftershocks, Sam’s arms shaking every time his thumb touches the over sensitized head.

It’s pure, undiluted _glory._

Sam’s half-asleep by the time he comes to enough to say something, his voice a growly, fucked out rumble.

“So glad we figured out that works for us early on.”

Cas smiles and steals a lazy kiss.  “I can only be glad that you were left intact at birth.”

“You could just say you like my foreskin, babe.”

“I love your foreskin, Sam.”

Sam chuckles and kisses Cas before murmuring “I like yours too, Castiel.”

They do bother to wash each other, eventually.


	6. Chapter 6

It’s four days before Thanksgiving before Sam finally mentions it.

“I think I’m ready.”  They’re taking a walk, crunching the fresh snow beneath their boots.

Cas looks at him quizzically, head tilted to one side.  “For what, Sam?”

“To see Bobby and Dean, get back on the road.  That kind of thing.”  Sam looks apprehensive, like he’s not sure what Castiel is going to say.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, absolutely.  We’ve been here almost a month Cas and while I’ve enjoyed it for the most part it just feels… I don’t know, like not enough.  Like I need to be back out there, getting back into the business.”

Castiel nods, taking Sam’s gloved hands in his.  “I think it’s a wonderful idea.”

Sam looks down at the snow, sighing.  “But you’re still not better yet.”

“I’m as better as I’m ever going to be at this point and I think we both know that.”  Sam’s presence has helped but Castiel still hasn’t quite swallowed the reality yet. 

He doesn’t think he ever will. 

Out here it’s easy enough to ignore, simply existing with Sam and reading and chopping wood and making love, occasionally getting supplies from Milton.  But on the road?  Castiel’s capabilities will show just how much things have changed, how unable he is to fight anymore.

Perhaps he needs to learn to defend himself without the benefit of Grace.

“Cas?”

“Yes, Sam?”

“I’m gonna find a way, I swear.  You healed me and now it’s my turn to heal you.”

“Sam, there is no way.”

Sam furrows his brow and keeps his tone stern.  “Cas, listen – you’ve never showed signs of defeat before – why start now?  I don’t think we’ve reached that end yet, to where you can’t be an angel again.  Just because you can’t see or feel doesn’t mean there isn’t a chance. Take it from me – you saw rock bottom and I’ve managed to come back just fine.”

Castiel is silent for a long moment before he opens his mouth to speak.

“Do you really think so?”

“Cas, I have faith. Not just in you but also our capabilities.  We can get your Grace back, even if we have to create it in Bobby’s shed.”  Sam gives him a little smile, trying to instill just a little bit of confidence in his angel, even if Cas no longer thinks of himself as such.

“You’re right, Sam.  You’re right.” 

“Not often, but sometimes, yes, I am.”  Sam kisses Cas’s forehead and pulls his cap down a little further over his ever growing shaggier hair.

Getting packed up isn’t exactly an easy task, only two duffle bags between them so they have to pack them full, leaving behind the books and taking the uneaten food to the local shelter.  It takes a day to get everything taken care of, their last stop being Milton’s to solve their biggest issue – a ride to Bobby’s.

“You boys really leaving town?”  Milton offers each of them a generous couple fingers of brandy to fight back the chill from being outside from so long.

“It’s time,” says Sam.  “I’ve been dead for too long and I want to get back to the life – or as much as I can anyway.”

Milton nods, sipping his drink.  “And what about you, Cas?”

“I go where Sam goes, as simple as that.  I have no need for anything else.”

It’s sweet, in a blunt sort of way and Sam wraps his arm around Cas’s waist a little tighter.

Milton grins and extends his arms.  “I think I can get you boys a way to South Dakota.  She’s old but she’s survived more winters than you two put together.

“She” refers to a 1960 Mercury Montclair, deep maroon in color and a little rough around the edges but Milton promises it runs like new – even if Sam’s going to have to see it to believe it.  The things the size of a barge but once the 6.3 liter V-8 rumbles to life he doesn’t feel so bad – even if the power steering is a little sluggish. With a promise to return and a stack of cash for gas they depart Swan Lake, the big square hood leading them down the mountain, heat going full blast and Castiel ensconced in the passenger seat with as navigator.

It takes three days to make the trek from Swan Lake to Sioux Falls, skidding over ice and busy roads being only half the issue of attempting the journey – Sam’s never driven anything so damn _big_ , grappling with the steering wheel like a Brahma bull, Castiel holding onto his seat for dear life every time it tries to spin out.  Sam tries to soothe him with the fact it’s so large that if they get hit they should be fine.

It’s not quite so comforting when it spins out somewhere just across the border with South Dakota but they manage to get back in a straight line eventually – that and Sam’s never been more thankful for snow tires in his life.

Dawn’s breaking over the horizon by the time they roll into Sioux Falls, Thanksgiving morning a mostly cloudless day but there’s snow on the ground, not anywhere nearly as much as they’d seen crossing Montana – Sam can actually manage the speed limit the last ten miles, Castiel asleep next to him, one of his sweaters serving as a pillow against the window.

If they had a phone to call ahead they would have but the burner Milton gave them died a week ago so it feels more than a little odd pulling onto the back road that leads to Singer Salvage without giving any indication they were coming – he’s almost afraid they’ll be shot upon arrival.

The ache in his heart to see his family overwhelms that worry tenfold.

Sam’s heart leaps at the sight of the Impala pulled up to the front of the house, covered in a light dusting of snow but Baby’s paint still gleams underneath it in the first rays of sunshine.  There’s a light on in the kitchen – someone’s up at least.  Sam parks just behind Dean, exhaling to calm his breath.

He wakes Castiel with a kiss on the cheek.

“Ready to come back from the dead?”

“I was not dead, only sleeping.”

Sam gives him a playful shove and shakes his head.

They walk hand in hand up to the door, gravel crunching underneath their feet – Sam’s not afraid, he really isn’t, not when Bobby knows they’re alive. 

But Dean doesn’t.

He knocks, hearing footsteps and “what the hell kind of idjit’s after him at this time of morning” as Bobby approaches the door, his mouth hanging open when he swings it back and sees Sam and Castiel standing there on his porch.

Sam can’t help but think it’s like the scene from Tom Sawyer when Huck and Tom enter the church and everyone says “the angels have returned!”

Castiel simply holds Sam’s hand a little tighter.

Bobby’s a little slow to react with the holy water and silver knife – neither of which do anything and as soon as he’s proven that this is indeed Sam and Cas standing before him he’s gathering both of them into a bear hug, “idjits’ hiding a sob of relief and Sam’s never been clung to so tightly by Bobby before – and he clings back just as tight.

“Hey Bobby who’s that out- “ and then Dean’s running down the stairs, “Sammy?” on his lips and Bobby lets go and then there’s Dean, arms going around Sam so fast that it knocks the wind out of him, hiding his face in Sam’s shoulder to mask the tears of relief and disbelief and overwhelming joy in his eyes, Castiel’s eyes watering because that’s beautiful, watching the two halves of that same whole put back together.

Dean hugs Cas too, not as tight as Sam but he’s fighting back his emotions too, wiping his eyes without shame and laughing.

“Could have called first, you know.”

Sam laughs and grips Dean’s shoulders, not wanting to let go of his brother quite yet.  “Would have ruined my entrance – where’s the fun in that?”

Dean hugs Sam again and clings tight, Sam gently rocking him and he gestures to Castiel, gathering up both of them into his arms while Bobby clears his throat and readjust his cap, watching Sam hold on for dear life to the two people he loves most in the world.

It’s the most heartwarmingly poignant thing he’s ever seen, Bobby muses to himself – and he’s seen quite a lot.

He’s still wiping his eyes as he heads back into the kitchen to pour Sam and Cas a cup of coffee.

___

Bobby couldn’t get any of them out of the kitchen even if he wanted to, Dean hanging onto Sam’s every word and often hanging onto him literally, Sam sandwiched between his brother and Castiel against one counter or at the table, Bobby bustling around and trying to get them to help make dinner but they just end up jammed together again, trading experiences, jokes, good-natured argument, and plenty of looks full of remembrance – they had all been there at Stull, after all.  Bobby still wakes up thinking about it, feeling like his head’s going to explode but it never does.

Of course looking at Sam he doesn’t see the boy trying to contain Lucifer – just a goddamn hero, the one who saved them all.

He’s told Milton as much, even if Milton really doesn’t know just how close The End was until Sam had stepped in, selfless as always.

Bobby ends up making a pound cake that he tucks away just for Sam, in amidst the three pies that he’s sure Dean will end up eating two of.

The other thing that strikes Bobby the most about how things have changed is how Castiel looks at Sam – a year and a half ago he was charged with ending Sam’s life.  Now he gazes at him with adoration and devotion – like Sam’s The Messiah incarnate.  Maybe he is to Cas, in a way – the angel’s never actually mentioned the Son of God to begin with.  Sam looks back at Cas with twice as much affection, though.  Bobby never met Jess or even heard that much about her but the way Sam looks back at Castiel Bobby knows that boy’s completely over the moon for him, however odd that relationship may be.  What’s even better is that there’s no hint of deception or malice in the way Cas addresses and acts towards Sam – they’re good and Bobby has no worry that Sam’s in very good hands.

Rufus and Milton end up dropping in right as the plates are being set around the table – and Bobby invites them in, both of them pumping Sam and Cas’s hand, the proverbial men of the hour – Cas takes it all in stride, clapped on the back by the new arrivals, Dean glued to Sam’s other side, Sam turned and turned and talking and the unabashed praise shown to him makes Cas’s heart soar for Sam – he deserves every kind word and gesture, even if these are the only people in the world who know anything about the events that had transpired.

But he’s hardly gotten a word or a moment alone with Sam all day and he really wants a kiss – and the drive to South Dakota didn’t exactly provide time for anything more than falling asleep on each other.  He’s not jealous, he tells himself – he simply misses having unrestricted access to Sam.

Dinner commences at one thiry sharp, diving right in and even Cas is ravenous, tearing through two platefuls of turkey, potatoes, three different kinds of vegetables, and then pie, chocolate for Cas, all washed down with some sort of concoction that Cas suspects uses bourbon as a base. (He switches to water after two sips of it.)  Sam eats hearty too – a fact that makes Castiel beyond happy, in a “Sam’s taken care of” sort of way.

Dean’s been talking Sam’s ear off the whole time, Sam’s attention diverted by everyone else save for Cas and Cas is close to excusing himself and going to lay down to digest but right before he pushes away from the table Sam’s right hand lands on his knee, squeezing and kneading it through his jeans, rubbing up and down his thigh in a soothing manner, sliding up dangerously close to his body and Sam doesn’t miss a beat as he laughs uproariously at a joke Milton’s telling as he slides his hand down and gives Cas’s junk a good, long squeeze, Cas’s breath hitching in his throat because he most certainly wasn’t expecting that.

Not that it’s unpleasant, of course.

Bobby shoos them out of the kitchen but insists Rufus and Milton stay to help clean up, leaving Sam, Dean, and Castiel to their own devices.  Dean insists on a movie and sits next to Sam on the couch, Cas on Sam’s other side as the newest _Star Trek_ movie starts, Bobby and company joining halfway through Chris Pine and Zachary Quinto taking on the Romulans.

Fifteen minutes later all but Sam and Cas have nodded off, full of good food and good liquor and admittedly, Cas is starting to feel heavy with the desire to rest as well, especially with Sam’s body pressed right up against his radiating heat like his own personal furnace.

Cas is contemplating leaning his head over on Sam’s shoulder when he’s being pulled up, Sam holding a finger to his lips to indicate the need for silence, taking his boyfriend’s hand and leading him past the kitchen to the laundry room.  Right as Cas is about to ask what’s going on Sam’s mouth is on his, hands lifting him up and setting him on the washer, leaving Cas with no other reaction than to kiss back, and hard. 

Sam tastes like pumpkin pie and liquor, Cas sucking the taste right off his tongue and that makes Sam press in all the closer, getting his hands under Cas’s sweater and scraping his fingernails over his side, making Cas groan with arousal and wrap his legs around Sam’s waist.

No, Sam definitely hasn’t forgotten about him.

Sam pulls away for a breath and starts to kiss along Cas’s jaw and neck, interspersing them with little nips that go right to Cas’s dick. 

“Been wanting to do that all day, baby.  Haven’t gotten to kiss you like that in ages.”

“Just three days, Sam.”  Cas could have said something more in tune with his current state of really fucking horny but Sam doesn’t seem to mind.

“Too damn long, Cas.  Too damn long.”  Sam kisses him again, hungry and aching for the contact before he pulls Cas forward to where he’s almost halfway off the lid of the washer, getting down to his knees and undoing Cas’s jeans.  The way Sam licks his lips once he’s got Cas’s hard cock out over his waistband is obscenely beautiful, the suddenness and intensity of Sam’s touch (and the grope he’d given him under the table) has Cas leaking and Sam catches the drop of precome on the tip of his tongue, looking up at Cas with those sinful hazel eyes of his as he swirls it all around the end of Cas’s dick.

“Sam I don’t think – “ the rest of whatever Cas was going to say in protest is lost as Sam swallows Cas down in one go, mouth stretched wide to accommodate Cas’s considerable girth, not stopping until his nose is touching the front of Cas’s sweater.  Cas’s brain, between the haziness of being positively stuffed with good food and Sam’s warm mouth on his dick, shuts down completely. 

Sam hums “Twist and Shout” around Cas as he sucks him off (it had been playing in the background at the bar where Sam had first dropped to his knees on that quite frankly filthy bathroom stall floor and rocked Cas’s world in a very similar fashion) and Cas is more than impressed, half hearing John Lennon’s voice in his head as Sam does his best to take him apart with a few expert swirls of his tongue and his fingers curled around the base, pumping just enough to keep Cas on edge.  Sam makes Cas come in less than three minutes, Sam swallowing every drop and then wiping his mouth before he stands and kisses Cas, spunk overwhelming the taste of everything else as he puts Cas back together with gentle touches and caresses.

Cas reaches for Sam’s belt but he’s stopped.  “That one was just for you, babe.  Didn’t want to think I’d forgotten about you.”

“I know you never do, Sam.”  Cas’s heart grows two more sizes hearing those words anyway.

“Still – I just wanted to make you feel good.  Help me get our stuff from the car?”

“Can we make out for a few more minutes first?”

A few minutes turns into half an hour before they even realize it.

They end up sleeping in Sam and Dean’s old room (save for now there are two queens for when they outgrew the twin beds originally in place) and Dean makes them swear to not get up to anything while he’s in there with them.  They listen for the most part, only making out under the cover of night when Dean’s dead asleep and Cas promises to be as quiet as he can.  It’s four days before Dean starts looking towards the horizon, itching to get back to hunting with Sam.

“It’s just gonna be a few days tops, babe.  I’ll be back soon.”  They’re outside, Sam’s duffle in the back of the Impala and Dean doing one last check over of his latest winterization efforts.  “And I haven’t forgotten my promise to you either.”

Cas nods, smoothing the collar of Sam’s jacket.  “I only wish to go so that I can be of help if needed.

“And because you’ll miss me.”

Cas doesn’t say anything, toying with a loose thread at the edge of a button of the left breast pocket.

“Cas, it’s okay to say it if you mean it.”

“I’m going to miss you, Sam.  Quite a lot.” 

Sam kisses his forehead and buries his face in Cas’s neck.  “It means you care and I’d be concerned if you weren’t going to miss me, really.  And believe me, the feeling’s mutual.  I’ve loved having just you and me time this last month, Castiel.”

Cas is decidedly not crying as he nods again.  “I love you, Sam.”

“I love you too, Castiel.”

Cas lets Sam go with one more kiss, a long one that lingers warmly against the approaching winter chill.  Dean rolls his eyes and mumbles them about being girls but Sam’s not in the least bit concerned – it’s just default reaction at this point. (And Sam secretly hopes that Dean’s just a little jealous that he has a steady partner.)

Castiel trudges back inside after the Impala’s disappeared from view and he can no longer hear her engine rumbling, Sam and Dean off on what they’re thinking is a vampire hunt.  Bobby had mentioned something about the approaching winter solstice bringing them out in droves and Cas shudders to think of a drove of bloodthirsty vamps going after Sam’s gorgeous neck. 

Cas also understands that Sam and Dean need time to fall back into the rhythm of Sam and Dean – he won’t deny either of them that.  Dean’s been too long without his brother, as has Sam.  With an accepting yet still bitter sigh he goes into the kitchen where Bobby’s pouring himself a third cup of coffee.  Noticing the glum look in Cas’s eyes he hands him a steaming mug of the strong brew as well.

“No need to look so mopey, Cas – vamps are something those two could kill in their sleep.”

“I’m not afraid for them, truly.  Honestly I fear more for their quarry.” 

“As you should.  But don’t think you’re gonna just hang around here like Eeyore while they’re off chopping the heads off of bloodsuckers.  Sam’s told me about what happened to your mojo.”  Bobby leans against the counter and fixes Cas with a look that conveys understanding of the most sincere kind.

“And you think that you could be of help?”

“Think, yes.  Guarantee, no. I’ve tried to pull all my books on angelology but the trouble is I can’t read half of what I’ve got.  Ancient Sumerian ain’t exactly the vernacular around here.”

Cas smiles and sips from his mug, the warmth almost a decent substitute for Sam’s arms around him.  “I can though.”

“See you do get to be useful.  And seeing as how I’m just support for the boys right now I think I’ve got plenty of time to help you.  I can’t say for sure if anything I have’ll help but we’re gonna try anyhow.  What do you say, Cas?”

“I say that at this point that I don’t have much of a choice – when do we begin?”

Bobby drains his cup and smacks his lips.  “As soon as I refill this.”

Cas has another as well.

There are twenty different texts on all things angelic just on the bottom floor of Bobby’s house, all of them old, heavy, and bound in leather.  Cas thrills at the sight of him, his knowledge of languages both alive and dead still very much with him.  They pull three more boxes from the basement and one from the library half of Bobby’s shop, making for a very impressive repository in the middle of the living room floor.  Bobby eases himself down onto one end of the couch after they’ve gather everything, insisting on categorizing by language first. 

It’s a start, anyway.

A few days stretches into a week, Sam and Dean having only checked in once and that was just to say they were heading north.  Cas wishes he had been the one to answer the phone but he’d been under a rather heavy tome at the time, still no closer to his goal than he had been a month beforehand.

Reading and researching does help pass the time however, and Castiel’s knowledge of his own kind broadens even further.  He comes to know of all the most ancient of ancient garrisons as written down by Joshua, the first scribe, the first witness to God’s armies, and the first to write them down.  Castiel had met him once – the closest he’d ever gotten to their absent Father.  He can hear Joshua’s voice in his head as he reads, feeling closer to home now than he has in a very, very long time.

A week turns into two, and then almost three – and finally Castiel might have a possible solution, having combed through every resource at hand, ten legal pads between himself and Bobby filled with notes – what Castiel needs is the soul of a good, pure man and as the text reads “will restore him unto the Grace of The Almighty.”

Castiel hurts when the first name that comes to mind is Sam’s.

Bobby, upon hearing the news, doesn’t offer much difference in opinion.

“Sam’s got what you need, and you know that.”

“But Sam’s soul is the only thing he’s ever had that’s been truly and completely his – and Lucifer tried to take even that from him.”

“Who else do we know who could give that to you though?”

Castiel shakes his head.  “No one.”

Bobby sighs, looking at the floor.  “Do you think it could be that you only need part of it?  Sort of like Sam giving you an angelic kidney?”

Castiel thinks for a moment – Sam’s soul is the most beautifully pure and powerful one he’s ever born witness to.

“I don’t know if I can only take part of it.”

“You know he’d say yes in a second, Cas.  He loves you to death.”

Bobby realizes too late how literal that phrase is and clears his throat.

“I mean…”

“I know, Bobby.  But I can’t ask him until he comes back.”

Bobby nods.  “I think he and Dean’ll be rolling in sooner rather than later.  For now though, I’m going to bed.  I’m old and it’s late.”

With that, Bobby ascends the stairs and Castiel returns to the living room to the books he’s got open on the couch, coffee table, and every other inch of surface within his reach.  It’s all starting to jumble a bit but he needs more answers and the sooner he can find them the better.  With determination he sets back to his task, picking up where he’d left off before amidst some Latin (the easiest to read of texts he’s been poring over lately) and wondering when Sam will return.

An hour later finds Castiel asleep, curled up with his head on a book and the threadbare throw that normally covers the back of Bobby’s couch over his body.  It’s cold, really cold but Cas is to tired he doesn’t even shiver in his slumber, dreaming of souls and galaxies and how Sam’s outshines them all. 

From somewhere outside his mind there’s a gentle touch across his cheek, Cas barely stirring from it.

“Sweetest angel of mine, wake up.”

Cas turns and nuzzles the touch, warm and comforting and –

Castiel’s eyes fly open and he sits up quickly, Sam kneeling in front of him and putting his hands on his shoulders, gently shushing him.

“Easy, Cas, it’s just me.”  Cas can’t really see Sam in the low light but he can hear the smile in his voice.

“I didn’t know you were coming back so… soon.”

Three weeks isn’t soon but Cas isn’t going to say anything.

“We finished the job and came back as soon as we could.  Missed you too damn much to wait any longer.”  Sam’s breath against his face is a welcome respite from the chill of Bobby’s living room and Castiel moves even closer towards it.

“I missed you too, Sam.”  Cas reaches up and finds Sam’s face with his hands, cupping his cheeks and leaning forward.

“C’mere” is a soft puff of invitation from Sam’s mouth and then Cas is kissing him, feeling the last near month drop away as he scoots forward into Sam’s arms, big and solid and reassuring as he hugs Cas to his body, kneeling between Cas’s legs and it’s slow, unhurried, time standing perfectly still as Castiel kisses Sam to his heart’s content, warm and wet and long.

As loath as Sam is to pull away to breathe he does, listening to he and Castiel’s lips part with a soft sucking noise.  He gets up on the couch and brings Cas into his lap, scratching up and down his back in a soothing motion.  Cas buries his nose in Sam’s neck, smelling the Impala and travel and the wind on Sam’s skin – it’s comforting and Cas lets it wash over him, his mind free of troubles for the time being.

“You’re freezing, babe.”  Sam nuzzles Cas’s head, trying to transfer some of his body heat.

“I didn’t realize I’d fallen asleep.” 

“Why don’t we go up to bed and you can tell me what all these books are for in the morning, huh?”

Cas nods, clinging a little tighter and making Sam’s heart burst with love with for his seraph.

For the first time in three weeks, both of them sleep the whole night through, Cas pillowed on his spot above Sam’s heart and Sam’s arms and legs keeping him safe and secure.

After breakfast the next morning, Sam and Cas take a walk out behind Bobby’s house.  The snow coats the stacks of rotting vehicles as if it’s trying to hide their decaying status from the world – a metaphor if there’s ever been one.

Cas tells Sam about the information he’s found.

“Is there a way to guarantee it’ll work?”  Sam wants to ask to make sure we both don’t die again but he leaves it unspoken.

“I’m afraid not and truthfully I don’t want to put you through something like that again.”

“Something like what?”

“Attempting to have your soul taken from you.”

There’s a long, long silence after that, the wind ruffling Sam’s hair under his cap as they walk more.

“Do you still see him at all?”

It’s a bare whisper above the breeze.

Sam stops and leans against the fender of a 1972 Pontiac.  “He’s not there anymore – the hallucinations, I guess.  But I remember enough about that place.  The cold.  The smell.”

The pain.

Cas stands in front of Sam and takes his hands.  “I don’t want to trigger a psychological meltdown, Sam.  I couldn’t bear to know that I’d done that to you, not after the way you’ve recovered.”

Sam kisses Cas’s gloved fingertips and smiles.  “And I made a promise to you, Cas.  I try to be a man of my word and this is something I want for you, to have your status and identity back.”

“My status and identity for a long time now has not been indicated by a pair of wings and the ability to end someone’s life sight unseen.” 

“Then what has for you?”

“Being loved by you in spite of the fact that we should hate each other.”

Sam spread his legs and pulls Cas between them, kissing his rosy cheeks.  “And I want to do this for you.  Please?”

Sam gives Cas his puppy dog look and it works better on Castiel than anyone else, even Dean.

“That’s cheating, Sam.”

“I was going to give your angelhood back to you whether you liked it or not, Cas.”

Cas gives Sam a kiss and nods.

“Okay.”

“Really?”

“Yes, Sam.”

The look on Sam’s face is all the convincing Castiel needs.

___

If Sam had a dollar for every time he’d either been part of or initiated a midnight ritual of some sort he could buy himself a house in The Bahamas – not that he’s ever been but it has to be nicer than South Dakota on the winter solstice, right?

It’s a warm thought, anyway.

He and Cas are laying on two cots made into impromptu altars in Bobby’s basement, sigils painted on their chests (they aren’t completely shirtless, just unbuttoned – too cold to go all the way) and Bobby’s got the sacrament in his hand, Dean pacing nervously because he knows what’s likely to happen but Sam’s stubbornness is legendary and he couldn’t talk him out of it now even if he tried until he was blue in the face.

They’d found a way to do it without pulling Sam’s soul completely out, just a small part of it – Cas had read further and managed to deduce that it was all they’d need.  All the same it’s going to hurt, and bad.

Sam’s prepared though.

Bobby’s eyes are on his watch, synced with Earth’s orbit so that they don’t miss it any more than necessary. It’s in Latin, which is easy enough to read- but Cas’s handwriting isn’t, highly elegant and very swoopy.  Still, he has to get it right or put them in danger of the spell at the very least leaving Sam in a state of suspension and Cas overloaded with something he can’t contain,

The worst, if Cas is to be believed, is that Sam’s soul would vaporize them all when it hit Cas’s last vestiges of angelhood, buried so deep and far inside Cas’s being he hasn’t felt it for weeks now.

Bobby’s sweating a little as he begins to read, Sam and Cas’s hands joined between them.

Dean’s not listening to Bobby, instead focused on how Castiel’s eyes are glowing bright white and Sam’s body is gold, like there’s some inner light trying to claw its way to the surface.  He wants to make it stop, make sure Sam’s okay but they’d decided to do this on their own, heal and help each other and Sam would murder him if he stopped it.

So he sits back and hopes for a swift end.

Inside, Sam’s in pure agony, his cells feeling like each one is being torn apart by a thousand tiny claws, ripped down to the very molecules but it’s the worst where he’s connected with Castiel, their beings attempting to bridge via Cas’s Grace and Sam’s soul, Sam aware of his soul shearing away part of itself and racing from the bottoms of his feet and the skin of his chest and the top of his head, pulling towards Cas like a magnet. 

The moment they connect there’s a blinding flash, supercharged with enough heat to singe the hair on Dean’s head.  Bobby’s not even halfway through the ritual and already it’s happened, the bond between Sam and Cas strong and holding as Sam’s soul pours itself into Cas’s dormant Grace.

It’s beautiful in a terrifying way, truly.

It’s over as soon as it’s started, the moonlight coming in through the basement door window, beamed right across to where Sam and Castiel lie and bathing them in its silvery hues, the two of them still glowing from within.  Dean’s rooted to the spot, Bobby looking down at his hands because somehow the book he was reading from has disappeared, not at all sure what’s happened to it.

Castiel can feel it, the electric hum of divine energy in every pore and cell, Sam’s soul nourishing and restoring at so rapid a pace that Cas doesn’t feel Grace until it’s finished in one place and raced to another part of his body, pure power bringing him back closer to the fold of Heaven than he’s been in a long time.  He also feels Sam, in every cell and space and organ, a presence so sublime that it outshines even Grace, pure and good and perfect.

This is true divinity, Castiel decides, to be filled with the purest of God’s creations.

Castiel opens his eyes and there’s the ceiling of Bobby’s basement, the moonlight, the smell of ozone filling his nostrils, and then Sam, long fingers still tangled with his, eyes closed in peace.

“Sam?”

Sam turns his head and squeezes Cas’s hand, eyes still shut.  “Did it work?”

“Yes.”

The noise Dean makes when they kiss is appropriately disgusted but he’s relieved that everyone’s still alive.

Sam and Cas act as though no one else in the world exists.

___

Dean hovers over them for the next few days.

Admittedly Sam feels lighter somehow but aside from that no different than before, save for the fact that now he’s practically glued to Cas’s side.

Castiel, for his part, walks taller, moves with more power, and kind of glows a little – or at least Dean claims he does.  All Sam really sees is his angel, just as wonderful and strong as before, restored to the glory that Sam feels he rightfully deserves. 

It’s Christmas Eve (and high time for any dormant gods or spirits of giving to wreak their divine havoc, so they’re all on alert- between glasses of eggnog laced with whiskey, of course.)  Sam’s only had a couple glasses, mostly keeping a weather eye on the local news website and watching Christmas specials with Cas, who’s never seen “It’s A Wonderful Life” but is fascinated by it all the same.

Dean insists on switching to Frosty The Snowman as soon as the credits roll and Sam doesn’t even have it in him to protest, simply ceding the remote over and snuggling closer to Castiel, jammed up together on the couch and Sam can’t see it but he knows Cas has a wing around him.  It’s draped over his shoulders, the long feathers on the floor near his feet and he feels protected and safe.

It’s the warmest Christmas he’s ever had, for sure.

Kissing Cas’s cheek on the way, Sam puts his lips to Cas’s ear and speaks.

“You can go do angel stuff, if you need too, Cas.  No need to stay here with me if you don’t want to.”

Cas turns his head and rests his forehead against Sam’s.  “But I want to be here. You’re here and you’re warm.”

Sam smiles and runs his fingers through Cas’s hair.  “Speak for yourself – you’re back up to furnace status.”

“I don’t hear you protesting.”

“I’m not.  It feels nice in this weather.”

Cas pulls Sam in a little closer with his wing.

“It does.”

They’re silent for a little while longer, Cas readjusting himself so that he’s leaning against Sam, one hand stuck under the edge of Sam’s sweatshirt, the flat of his palm right above Sam’s navel.  He rubs little circles into his skin, Sam sinking further into the couch under the touch.  In turn Sam rubs the back of Cas’s neck with his thumb, up and down in a straight line over the nape.  Cas feels like he’s fused to Sam, his Grace humming steady in his bones.  He’s getting used to the feeling of it being there again, simply existing with it inside him. It’s comforting, yes, but putting Sam in the mix makes it that much better.

“Sam?” Castiel asks after a while.

“Yes?”

“Do you feel closer than before?  Like the more of us that’s touching or when we’re near each other it’s as if our bodies respond of their own accord?”

Sam thinks for a moment before answering.  “Yeah, now that you mention it.  I thought it was just your Grace but now I feel it too.  Like we’re supposed to be at each other’s sides.”

“I like it, Sam.”

“Me too, Cas, me too.”

Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer comes on and Dean’s half-asleep, full of eggnog and good cheer in Bobby’s recliner, Bobby outside tinkering with his tow truck (it relaxes him, he claims) so Sam doesn’t feel like it’s going to be noticed as his hand slips down Cas’s back and finds the root of his right wing through his shirt.  He strokes his fingers over it gently, a bare touch that makes Cas purr a little bit.

“That feel good babe?”  Sam knows exactly what he’s doing but he likes to ask all the same.

“Yes.”  There’s the slightest quiver of arousal in Cas’s voice and Sam hears it loud and clear.

“Good.”  Sam presses his fingers into Cas’s skin a little harder, rubbing his nose behind Cas’s ear as he does.

“You smell fantastic, Castiel.”  It’s true – Cas smells like fresh snow and earth and clean linen.

“Sam…”  Sam sucks the lobe of Cas’s ear into his mouth as he scritches his fingernails across the space between Cas’s wing roots, Cas going from slightly aroused to wriggling with desire, fighting the urge to get in Sam’s lap and straddle him. Of course Sam wouldn’t say no but Dean _is_ right there, arms folded across his chest as his head keeps nodding forward with drowsiness.

“Want to know what we haven’t done since you got your mojo back?”  Sam’s provoking deliberately now and Cas isn’t going to stop him.

“I do.”  Considering the foggy haze of lust that’s very quickly encroaching upon his brain right now Cas thinks two whole words is pretty damn good.

“Want to go upstairs and maybe do something about it?”  Sam’s not leaving Cas much choice in the matter anyways, pulling Cas off the couch as he stands.  Right as Cas is about to answer Sam picks him up and throws him over his shoulder, one arm secured around Cas’s waist to keep him from falling as they ascend, closing the door behind him before carrying Cas over to their shared bed and gently dropping him.

Cas is hungry for it by now, pulling Sam down on top of him into a hard kiss, licking into Sam’s mouth as he tries to get Sam’s shirt off.  Grace or not Sam can still pin Cas and he grabs Cas’s wrists and holds them above his head, growling as he grinds their hips together.

“My turn to make you feel good Cas.”  Sam gives him a wicked grin and pulls Cas up just enough to get his sweater and t-shirt off, leaving Castiel naked from the waist up.  Cas is sexy as hell, lightly defined muscles that bulge just right when he moves, tight stomach that can take a punch but also makes a good pillow for Sam’s head, pecs that Sam loves to leave marked up with love bites.

“So fucking pretty babe” Sam purrs as he surges forward again, kissing Cas’s mouth demanding and quick before he moves down, scraping his teeth along Cas’s throat and collarbones.  He maneuvers himself so that he’s got Castiel straddling his lap, Cas’s nipples rubbing against Sam’s still clothed body and making him whimper.

“Sam, _please_.”  Sam has Cas’s wrists gripped together behind his back in one hand while the other massages Cas’s wing roots, his wings manifested in their full glory, blackish blue with silvery flecks that spangle their spread like so many stars above.  Already he can feel the slick of wing oil coating his fingers, Cas’s glands over-sensitive after so long without Sam’s touch upon them.  Sam’s a tease about it, massaging for a second as he fucks Cas’s mouth with his tongue before pulling away his mouth and fingers, instead biting and marking Cas’s shoulders and chest.

“Not yet.”  Sam’s running this show, the first time he’s gotten to in a month and he’s going to make it good, no matter how hard Cas begs for him to speed things along.  He’s deliberately avoiding touching Cas’s feathers, isn’t going to run his fingers through them quite yet – Castiel has to want it more first.

Cas tries to rub himself against Sam’s front, still covered in his sweatshirt and other annoying articles of clothing – he wants Sam naked just as badly as he wants Sam to finish undressing him.  Castiel can feel his dick trapped in his underwear, hard since Sam picked him up and carried him up the stairs without so much as a thought.  Sam’s not giving an inch to Castiel, mouth colliding with Cas’s again and curling his tongue to write S,a,m on the roof of his mouth as he gets his fingers under the left wing, right on the oil gland.  Castiel bites hard enough on Sam’s bottom lip to draw blood, Sam growling and taking himself away.

“Fucker” Sam says as he licks the red dripping down his chin, stripping himself off completely just out of Cas’s reach.  Castiel fumbles with his belt and jeans but Sam’s quicker, grabbing Cas and flipping him over, straddling the backs of his thighs and holding him down.

Sam leans forward, kissing the back of Cas’s ear.  “Just tell me if I’m too rough and I’ll stop, I swear.”  It’s an out, an invitation to not be thrown around anymore but Castiel needs it, to feel strength against strength, the reassurance that Sam’s alive and he’s alive and they’re going to remain that way.

“It’s okay.” Cas is intensely aware of Sam’s weight and muscles holding him down – sure he could throw Sam without even thinking about it but he doesn’t want to – he wants to be at Sam’s bitey, growly mercy.

Now that he’s got Cas’s consent Sam keeps going, all teeth and hot breath as he bites the shell of Cas’s ear, licking up the back before meandering down his neck.  He plants a kiss right on the nape, Cas’s wings curled up and back, so close that Sam’s arms brush over them.  He bends Cas’s arms gently so that he can pin his wrists above his head where Cas is lying face down.

Sam plants a straight line of sucking kisses down from Cas’s neck, each one making his hairs stand on end as he moves closer to his wings.  Cas is trying hard to rut against the mattress but Sam’s still got him pinned. Shifting so that he’s settled on Cas’s calves he bends down and licks up Cas’s flank until Cas can feel his breath right on the oil gland.

The first touch is tentative, Sam’s tongue flicking out for half a second to taste Cas’s body.  He’s sensitive to just fingers as it is but this is a whole new sensation – that slightest of touches makes Cas’s body bow up, unable to move very far due to Sam’s mass holding him in place.  Sam does it again, longer this time, burying his face in the wet heat under the damp feathers.

“Sam, fuck, Sam, _please_ ” Cas moans again, Sam’s tongue feeling as though it’s seared right through to his Grace.  Sam simply ignores him, taking his sweet time with getting his fill of Castiel’s body angelic. Cas writhes, curses, begs, Sam driving him positively mad with desire.  To add to his sweet frustration Sam cards his fingers through Cas’s left wing, dragging them slowly through the soft down nearest Cas’s body and as far as he can go into the bigger feathers.  The result it Cas leaking even more oil, Sam’s cheeks and lips wet with it now and the smell alone he could get off on.

Sam gives him one more lick before he pulls away, hauling Cas up to his knees and kissing his from behind, scratching hard enough to leave red marks down Cas’s front as he drops his hand to the button and fly of Cas’s jeans.  He’s slow about getting them open, taking his time to grip and squeeze Cas’s cock through the dark blue denim.  Cas shivers, feeling his wing oil stick to Sam’s naked chest and Sam’s cock pressed right up against his ass so that the upper half digs into the small of his back.

Cas reaches behind himself with the intent of taking trying to reciprocate but Sam stops him.

“Let me.”

Cas shudders when Sam finally pulls his jeans down and his cock hits the cool air, precome wetting the pink head so that it’s shiny in the afternoon light coming in.  Sam drags his hand along Cas’s length, smearing his slick over the soft skin, drawing back up slowly and making strings between his fingers as he rolls Cas’s foreskin between his thumb and forefinger.

“I love you, Castiel.” Sam kisses each syllable into Cas’s jaw and shoulder, then kisses him on the mouth again as he uses his other hand to take hold of Cas’s, sliding their fingers together and pulling Cas as flush to his body as he can. 

“I love you too, Sam Winchester.”  Cas means it with every ounce and molecule of his being, both corporeal and angelic. He turns his head for another kiss and there’s a moment where it’s only that, Sam’s hand still on his cock, tasting his own wing oil in his mouth on top of the eggnog Sam had earlier – it’s a rush that makes his skin tingle and burn slightly, Sam releasing him and easing him down to the mattress. He pulls Sam’s jeans and underwear the rest of the way off, leaving him in just his socks.

Sam kisses down Cas’s body, only stopping to lick a stripe up from the curl of Cas’s dark pubic hair up to his navel, hair dragging softly across his flesh.  He bypasses Castiel’s cock, instead pushing his legs back so that his knees are touching his chest, Cas’s lower body lifted off the bed.

“Ready?”

“Yes.”

Sam’s tongue still has wing oil on it and when Cas feels its cool burn against his hole he moans, one hand clawing at the sheets while he keeps his other arm hooked around his knees, exposed for Sam to eat him out.  Sam’s unhurried about it, making a show of prepping him with his tongue, growling and licking and nipping Cas’s butt all at the same time – it transports Cas to the very edge of pure bliss, listening to the wet lap of Sam’s tongue into his body. 

The sounds themselves Castiel could get off on, so perfectly obscene they sound to his ears.

Cas uses his Grace to get himself more open than just Sam’s tongue can, going so far as to where Sam can lick just into the inner ring, the skin hypersensitive and Cas’s cock is leaking steadily against his stomach, Sam getting more and more aggressive with it because he’s not had this part of Castiel like this, nose buried in Cas’s perineum and licking _hard._

“Sam – now.”  Cas has had all he can take after another ten minutes, hole dripping wet and his wings are twitching and sparking with Grace, eyes blown so wide and dark they’re as blue as the deep of the ocean. 

Sam doesn’t waste any time, crawling back up Cas’s body and kissing him silly as he reaches for the lube he’s stashed under the mattress.  He wets his cock quick, holding Cas’s lower body up and pouring it right into his hole, using three fingers to get him ready. 

“How do you want it, babe?” Sam asks, his low and lust-wrecked in Cas’s ear.

“In your lap.  So you can touch my wings.”  Cas is barely holding onto control at this point and Sam can tell it’s not going to take much.

Sam nods and kisses Cas as he swings his legs around to where he’s sitting on the edge of the mattress, hauling Cas into his lap and holding his hips steady as Cas sinks down on Sam’s cock, all the way until he’s bottomed out and it feels like Sam’s impaled him through to his gut.

“Fuck me.”

And Sam’s off, fleeting kisses and bites across Cas’s chest as he bounces him up and down, the wet smack of lube and skin almost certainly too loud to even try and pretend they’re doing something else if they’re caught – not that Sam gives a fuck, given that Cas’s ass feels all sorts of fantastic clenched around his cock right now.

Sam gets his hands in Cas’s wings, right near the routes, Cas holding himself steady as Sam hangs on and fucks up into him, screaming into Sam’s shoulder, the skin purpling where his teeth are sunk the flesh there.  Sam’s nailing him right in the prostate, fingers digging into his oil glands at the same time, his body alight with the touch and he’s trying to not literally not fly apart right now, leaving deep scratches in Sam’s back in addition to finger-shaped burns where he simply can’t contain his Grace.

“Sam, god, fuck, keep fucking going, gonna come, oh Sam, Sam, Sam!” is the constant litany from Cas’s mouth, spurring Sam on, lifting Cas without pulling out and fucking him standing up, Cas’s legs bouncing where he’s got them drawn up around Sam’s body.  He holds on tight to Sam’s shoulders and back, being taken on the ride of his life.

Between Sam’s dick reaming him in the most heavenly way and his Grace being touched and stimulated in a million different Cas comes hard, his cock untouched save for rubbing against Sam’s body, spunk smearing all over Sam’s pecs and chest hair, two solid spurts hitting the bottom of Sam’s chin.  Sam ends up coming while still standing, his knees shaking as he bites his bottom lip to keep from screaming his way through his orgasm.  It’s blinding and world ending but it feels so fucking good neither of them could care less if that was the end, right then and there.

Sam collapses backwards onto the bed, Cas still on his dick, leaning forward to fall on his chest.  Sam kisses him, more than a little uncoordinated but it’s sweet and wet and perfect, Cas scooping up his jizz from Sam’s body and feeding it to him off his fingers, Sam licking and sucking it up greedily until he’s clean.  They swap it back and forth for a while, no one disturbing them the whole time and this is perfection, Sam thinks.

Cas does roll off of him after a while, ass still dripping with come and lube but he doesn’t care – he wants to lay on Sam’s chest instead.

Sam puts an arm around Cas’s shoulders as a wing covers both of them, kissing him on the temple and closing his eyes.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you Cas – what do you want for Christmas?”

“Just you.  And more of this.”  To emphasize ‘this,’ Castiel buries his face in Sam’s neck and pulls his arms that much tighter around Sam’s body.

“How much more?”

“The whole day, Sam.”

“Dean’ll want to open presents at some point, you know.”

“We don’t have to separate for that, do we?”

Sam chuckles and rolls over so he can face Castiel.

“Not at all, Cas, not at all.”


End file.
